


In These Waters I Find Rest

by wavestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: deancasbigbang, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wavestiel/pseuds/wavestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The truth of the matter is, there has never been only one God. There were many. They have, according to recorded accounts, ruled for several millennia. In the olden days, they were worshipped openly. Some of the Gods even dared to walk amongst mortals. But Castiel, God of the Sea, has always known better than to associate with them. At least, he used to know better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i took a lot of liberty with history in this story. i twisted a lot of things to make my world work. so, if you see any inaccuracies -- i assure you it's done on purpose. i'm sure that doesn't make it any easier to swallow though.
> 
>  
> 
> “I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave no answer.”  
> \- Song of Solomon 5:6

  1. There will be blood




Before human beings grew to worship only one God, there were the Gods of lore. They were referred to as the Ancients. They were worshipped without question; they were whispered about; they were feared; above all they were respected. They demanded little in return for the mercy they showed the human race. They asked only to be left alone. Every God understood the most absolute rule: Leave the humans to themselves.

Castiel understood the reasons behind that rule. When he was a younger God, his sister had abandoned them in favor of becoming a human. She had thrown aside her birth rights. She had vanished without explanation. And Castiel hated her for it.

The ocean was Castiel’s domain. He alone decided what direction the currents would flow; what time of day was the calmest in the sea; what new creatures would be birthed that day. When the waves swept up to touch the land, it was his doing. When the fisherman prayed for smooth sailings and found that the waters were of perfect condition that day, it was Castiel’s doing. When the water churned and held back some calamity from befalling the shore people, it was Castiel’s mercy in effect. He would not trade it for anything.

 

* * *

 

 

“C’mon baby bro! Just a real quick peak!”

“No Gabriel,” Castiel hissed as he walked at a brusque pace. “I want nothing to do with this foolish quest.”

Gabriel sighed in exasperation. “If you don’t want to fraternize with them, fine! But we can still look.”

“You are asking for trouble, brother. Maintain control of your senses.”

“I’m in control of my senses! Don’t be so daft. It’s only a little fun.”

Castiel abruptly stopped walking. Gabriel, caught up in his fuming, failed to notice and crashed into his brother. Castiel turned to glare at him. His brother was short (humorously so) and covered in bright jewelry. He wore many bracelets in strong shades of green and purple; the necklace he wore was adorned with many pale stones. Although Castiel preferred softer tones in his jewelry, he thought the look suited his brother’s golden skin.

As far as siblings went, they definitely looked nothing alike.

The longer Castiel stared, the more uneasy Gabriel became. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably.

“Okay I get it. You don’t want to go with me. Stop staring!” he pleaded. Though he was tempted to resume his walking, Castiel continued to stare.

When Gabriel had had enough, he grabbed his brother by the wrist. For a moment, Castiel admired the way their skin tones differed. Castiel’s skin was a soft tint of azure. Even the clothes he wore differed from his brother. He wore garments of purest black; his brother liked to dress in shades of pink. Gabriel was especially fond of carmine and carnation.

“Gabriel,” he said finally, freeing his wrist of his brother’s grip. “Do not mention this to me again. You know the weight our family carries already. I do not wish to be a part of this folly. I will not go with you to watch humans do…human things.”

“Do you even know what ‘human things’ are?” Gabriel sneered.

“Whether or not I know is not of import. Don’t you have things to do today?”

“Well….yes. But I’m not worried. It’s simple enough.”

“What, exactly, is simple enough?”

“Well…you know how we’ve had a hard time finding the right fit for Anna’s old position.”

Upon hearing his sister’s nickname, Castiel stiffened. His sister – who had been gone for nearly seven hundred years – had once been the Goddess of the Moon. The position was a highly coveted one. Being God of the Moon meant being the physical embodiment of the Moon. The one to have such power needed to know how to hold it; how to use it. None had lived up to the challenge yet.

“I think I’ve finally found the right one for the job.”

“Oh? What makes you so certain?”

Gabriel chuckled. “I wish I could explain but you have to see it to believe.”

And so, Castiel opted to go with Gabriel to welcome the new God. This, at least, had gotten the topic of people watching off his brother’s mind.

 

 

  1. You are the Moon




The castle that Gabriel resided in was monstrous, even by the standards of the Gods. Gabriel, being the ruler of Thunder, chose to place his castle high in the sky. It was made of many towers that seemed to reach beyond the very border of the planet. The walls were elaborately made of gold and the floors of silver. In the center of the largest chamber sat a red throne.

“Now then,” he said, throwing himself down onto the aforementioned throne. “I know I don’t have the best record of picking good deities for this job.” Castiel snorted. Gabriel looked affronted. “Hey! I’ve made some mistakes, okay? This one is different though.”

“So you say. Forgive me if I am leery.”

To say that Gabriel had made some mistakes was a bit of an understatement. Their Father had chosen Gabriel, as the eldest, to make certain the Moon was never left unattended. Technically it had never been left unattended, as Gabriel would frequently fill in when they were in between Gods, but that often left the skies without a watcher.

The last God that Gabriel had chosen ended his reign by trying to destroy the moon. He said the rays of moonlight that bounced off it were mocking him. Castiel had been the one to dispose of him. He had vowed never to let his brother live it down.

“You’ll see when you meet him. You’ll get the same feeling that I did.” When Castiel continued to look doubtful, Gabriel sighed. He gestured for his brother to sit. Castiel took the seat nearest the throne.

It was not long before a servant entered the throne room. She bowed gracefully and announced, “My Lords. Euanthe is at the castle doors. Shall I bring him in?”

“We can’t very well send him away, can we Priscilla?” Gabriel replied, giving her a wink.

She grinned. “I am happy to do whatever my Lord requests of me. I will allow him entry.”

Castiel gave his brother a puzzled look. He had never heard of this Euanthe before. He was not aware that there were any Gods he did not yet know. He had watched his own Father create them. He knew them all and he kept track of the families they went on to create.

Priscilla returned with their guest in tow. “My Lords – may I present Euanthe, Son of Jerahmeel.”  
Castiel’s eyes widened in surprise.

Jerahmeel was the weapon forger for all the Gods. He lived on an isolated island that no one dared to go near. It was said that his temper was erratic. He had killed his own wife for interrupting him while he forged new weaponry for Iblis. He was an unpredictable, intolerable God whom Castiel had no dealings with.

Gabriel nudged his brother abruptly. “I can feel you judging him harshly. Don’t be misled by his dad’s rep.” Gabriel’s voice grew loud as he said, “New Lord! I introduce to you my younger brother, Castiel, God of the Waters.”  
  
Castiel took another minute to observe the young candidate. Euanthe was tall; strong-shouldered; with silver skin that seemed to glow. He wore a brown tunic that Castiel found pleasant. His bright green eyes did not waver when Castiel’s blue eyes bored into him. He in fact nodded at Castiel in salutation.

“What is it that you do now, Euanthe?” Castiel inquired.

“I forge weapons with my father,” was Euanthe’s deep-voiced response. “You must be the only one I’ve never forged anything for. Why is that?”

“I have no use for them. The entirety of the world’s waters is my weapon.”

“Perhaps one day you will have use for some of my weapons then. I would gladly make anything you desire.” Euanthe smiled gently at Castiel, who found himself offering a small smile in return.

Gabriel watched in silence as the two continued to gaze at one another. He had never seen his brother react so curiously. And he knew – just knew – that his stoic, sexless brother was not about to complicate things by flirting with the new Moon God.

“Yes well,” Gabriel started, clearing his throat, “Now that you’ve met him…what do you think?”

Castiel mulled it over. Euanthe certainly did look the part. He held himself humbly; he stood not so straight that arrogance radiated off him, nor did he slump in shame.

On the surface, all Castiel had to go on was looks. He knew not the contents of the other’s soul. He did not know what Euanthe dreamed of or hoped for. He had no way of knowing whether or not this being would be everything the job required.

What he did have to go on was his brother’s recommendation. And Gabriel – for all his trickery and foolish behavior – had never led Castiel astray. If Gabriel trusted him then Castiel had no reason to distrust Euanthe.

After several long moments, Castiel nodded at his brother. Gabriel’s face broke into a grin.

“Excellent!” he shouted gaily, hopping up and striding over to Euanthe’s side to give him a big pat on the shoulder. “EXCELLENT! Now, I have some…other matters to tend to. Cassy – can you be a good brother and get him acquainted with the job?”

Castiel’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink when his brother addressed him so.

“I have requested that you never call me that,” he growled. Gabriel chortled with amusement and slipped out of the room.

With his brother gone, Castiel made quick business of arranging a meeting with Euanthe the next day. He would need to be shown his new castle. At some point, a ceremony would need to be held, so that every other God would know his name. There was one task Euanthe would need to complete first, but that was better left for explaining until the moment before.

I’d be perfectly fine with being the only one to know his name, Castiel later found himself thinking. As soon as the thought was fully formed, he began to blush furiously. There was no way he had a thing for the Son of Jerahmeel. No way.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Early the next morning, Castiel awoke to sharp rapping on his chamber door. As he sat up, groggy and discontent, a familiar (albeit nervous) voice called through the door, “Castiel? Are you awake, Lord?”

“I seem to be now, yes,” Castiel sighed. “Enter!”

Samandriel entered the room hastily but stopped at the foot of the bed. “There is a guest waiting for you. Someone by the name of Euanthe?”

Castiel groaned and fell back onto the bed. “Tell him I’m dead. Tell him to go home.”

“But you’re not…you’re not dead, my Lord.”

“….Yes, I know. I was attempting humor. Sarcasm, if you will.”

“Of course,” Samandriel remarked. “It was a valiant effort. What should I do about him?”

Castiel sighed once more and rolled over. It was far too early for his taste. He waved his hand at Samandriel in dismissal and muttered, “I’ll be out shortly.”

Samandriel gave a quick nod, bowed, and then exited the room. He knew better than anyone that Castiel did not enjoy being disturbed on days when he chose to sleep in.

When he returned to the large front room of the castle, he found the pale-skinned God waiting patiently.

“I do apologize for my Lord’s lateness,” he said. “Are you certain he agreed to meet you at such an early point in the day?”

“He did say in the morning,” Euanthe replied. Samandriel refrained from saying anything more. He had no plans to offend the Moon God so soon. Euanthe was bound to learn Castiel’s ways sooner or later. After all, the Moon God and Sea God always worked closely together.

When Castiel entered the main chamber several minutes later, Euanthe was momentarily taken aback.

Castiel’s dark hair – which had been well maintained the previous day – was now wild. He was dressed only in a pair of loose-fitting pants that hung low on his hips. Silver jewelry dangled from his ears and jangled on his wrists. (Euanthe was certain the God had also worn those earrings the day before, which meant he slept in his jewelry, a fact that Euanthe tucked away to smile about later.) Without a shirt on, bold black markings were visible on his upper body. They trailed along his sides and snaked up to the tops of his shoulder. When he let out a yawn and stretched his body, the muscles in his shoulders shifted the markings around. Euanthe was enthralled.

“Nice markings,” he remarked. “Are they natural?”

Castiel gave a self-conscious laugh. “No. In my youth, I asked one of the Fire Sirens to scorch my body with a spell that would leave dark marks of protection. I thought it would make me different.”

“I certainly would have noticed you first in a crowded room.” Euanthe gave Castiel a wink. Samandriel rolled his eyes as he walked back into the room, slippers and a robe in his hands. He nudged them against Castiel’s arm.

“My Lords, if you desire it, we have breakfast prepared in the dining hall,” he stated. Euanthe’s eyes lit up.

“Might you join me for breakfast, Lord of Moonlight?” Castiel requested, pulling the robe on.

“It would be my pleasure.”

What Samandriel called breakfast, Euanthe considered a feast. There were large platters of fruits, and even larger platters of various meats. Breads of all sorts – from thick and savory to soft and sweet – were stacked in the middle of the table. Castiel motioned for Euanthe to sit in the chair across from him. Samandriel set down a glass of juice in front of each ruler and, with a courteous bow, departed.

Castiel sipped his drink in silence, watching Euanthe decide where to start first.

“You should try the sticky bread,” he eventually offered. “My chef is very skilled at that particular sweet. I gave him my personal recipe to use.”

“You have your own recipes for things? That is impressive.”

Castiel chuckled as he bit into a fruit. “Is it surprising to you that I know how to cook?”

“I find it mildly surprising, yes. It’s not often a God knows how to cook for himself.” Euanthe paused and reached for the plate of sticky bread. (Sticky was definitely the right name for it!) He raised a piece of it to his mouth and tasted it gingerly. There was an explosion of flavor in his mouth. Without warning, he let slip a small moan.

“Shall I tell my chef know that the great Euanthe approves of his food?” Castiel grinned. Euanthe nodded in affirmation.

After he was done chewing, Euanthe leaned back in his chair. “Can I ask something of you?” Castiel nodded. “Would you…call me by my preferred name? I know it seems strange but Euanthe is only the name my father insisted I use. The one my mother gave me…It’s Dean. My name is Dean.”

When Euanthe (Dean, Castiel corrected himself) mentioned his mother, Castiel noticed a flicker of emotion pass over his face. His face seemed to soften for a moment before quickly hardening into a mask. Castiel, whose own mother had been murdered when he was young, understood the mask he wore.

“Dean,” Castiel repeated. The sound of his name on Castiel’s tongue made Dean’s  stomach flip. “I think I can manage that. Dean.”

Dean found himself grinning. “No one has called me by that name in a long time. Not since my mother…” Again, his green eyes became cloudy. Castiel reached a hand across the table and squeezed Dean’s fingers.

“I am happy to address you by whatever name makes your heart content,” he said simply. “It is my honor to meet you, Dean.”

 

* * *

 

 

By the time the two Gods set off for the day, Castiel found himself thoroughly enjoying Dean’s company. The carefree ruler made Castiel feel at ease and nervous simultaneously. He had never before known anyone that made him feel so odd.

It wasn’t as if he had never noticed anyone nice before. His Father had frequently tried to get him to procreate and continue on their blood line. He had never been interested. It just…didn’t appeal to him. But this one he definitely found appealing.

They departed from the Castle of the Sea by boat. It was a small, quaint boat. Despite how manageable it was, Samandriel had vigorously offered to accompany his Lord. Castiel had assured him that things would be fine. He gave his loyal apprentice a soft pat on the back before climbing into the boat.

When they set off, Dean noted aloud that the water was particularly clear. Castiel smiled at that and replied, “Clear, calm waters are the best for everyone. It seems to be easier for the fishermen to make several catches. It is less likely that anyone will drown due to unruly waters. It makes people happy.”

“Aren’t the fish also under your protection? Does it bother you that the humans consume them?” Dean questioned.

“It is not nearly as bothersome as some think. It is the way things must be. From my sea comes nourishment. It is my responsibility to provide them with the means to care for themselves. In return, I am given loyalty. If that means I give a few of my own to appease them, so be it.”

Dean grew quiet as he listened to Castiel’s response. It seemed the Sea God had a purpose. Dean couldn’t help but wonder what his own purpose was. What could he possibly have to offer anyone?

As they sailed onward, Dean watched the way the boat flew over the water. He watched the way the water parted to make room for the boat. It did not refuse to yield. It did not fight back. It only flowed.

  
  


 

 

 

They came to a stop when they reached a tiny island which housed a single, unsteady looking barn. After securing the boat, Castiel motioned for Dean to follow him. They walked a ways and stopped at the doors of the barn.

“This is your first test,” Castiel stated. “Inside this barn is the Noble Steed of the Moon. He served my sister faithfully for many millennia. He is yours to command if you can get him to submit to you.”

“If I can get him to submit?” Dean said.

“Yes, if. He has not submitted to anyone since my sister left.” Dean noticed that both times Castiel had mentioned his sister, he cringed slightly. “Gabriel has, in the past, been desperate enough that he was willing to overlook any failure to subdue Impalus. He seems confident that he will not need to overlook anything when it comes to you.”

“Good to know he has faith in me, right?”

“If it matters, I have faith in you, too.”

Castiel smiled reassuringly before throwing open the doors to the barn. He made no movement to follow Dean inside. Instead, he waited just outside.

Dean walked through the dark barn cautiously. It smelled of old wood and long-abandoned stalls. From the back of the barn, he could hear snorting and the sound of hooves stomping the ground.

When Dean was a foot away from the last stall, something rammed into the wall and made the entire barn shake. Frowning, Dean inched forward, trying to get a good look at this “noble steed.”

Impalus was impossibly large. His coat was black as coal; his wings, also black, were dipped in a brilliant shade of copper at the tips; his purple eyes locked onto Dean. When he snorted a moment later, steam was blown from his nostrils. Dean had barely registered how breathtaking the creature was before he lunged backwards; Impalus had brought his hooves down inches away from Dean’s body.

A Pegasus, Dean thought. I’m supposed to tame an unruly Pegasus.

Dean’s eyes searched the barn for anything he could use to his advantage. There wasn’t much – a stick to one side, an old hammer by the opening of an empty stall. Then he noticed a large chain hanging over the occupied stall.

With more speed than he knew he possessed, Dean ran into the vacant stall next to Impalus. He jumped up the wall and, clinging desperately to the beam overhead, grasped the chain with his free hand. As Dean took a moment to celebrate his small victory, Impalus kicked down the wall that separated the two stalls. Dean went crashing down, landing on the ground with an “Oof!”

As he tried to regain his breath, Dean rolled over. Impalus let out a rumble and a snort. He stood outside the stall, staring at Dean menacingly. Dean got to his feet, chain in hand.

For a second, neither of them moved. They only stared at one another, each one sizing up the other, each one trying to proclaim that he was not going to back down. Dean wasn’t sure what propelled him forward but, before he knew it, he had thrown himself on top of the Pegasus, dragging the chain with him. He threw it around the giant wings that threatened to bat him in the face and pinned them to Impalus’ body.

Dean yanked on the chain, causing Impalus’ knees to buckle as his wings were painfully squeezed. He situated himself on top of the angry steed, who it seemed was out of patience.

Impalus leapt up quickly, catching Dean by surprise; he had barely a moment to wrap his arms around the beast’s neck. With that accomplished, and with his knees sitting heavy at the base of Impalus’ wings, he pulled his arms toward his body, forcing Impalus into an awkward and uncomfortable position. The beast began to still.

Just a little longer, he told himself. This is doable.

Finally – after minutes that felt like years had come to pass – Impalus sank to his knees. As he felt Impalus’ body relax underneath him, Dean’s arms went slack. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He reached down and untangled the chain from around his newfound companion. The Pegasus unfurled his great wings and resumed standing. After another long moment, Impalus lowered his head in servitude.

Dean paused for a moment, in awe of the large creature before him. He patted Impalus’ face gently,  the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“We okay?” he said breathlessly. “You think it would be okay if you served by my side?” The Pegasus gave a snort in response.

Dean – head held high and face covered with a grin of pride – guided his steed out of the barn.

Castiel had not seen anyone atop this particular beast in many centuries. It looked…magnificent.

“You have proven yourself far worthier than any that have come before you,” he announced happily. “Impalus has not bowed down to anyone but the Gods that ascended this throne by birth right. On this day, you have become the first to calm him. Well done, Dean.”

Dean let loose a hearty laugh. Castiel gazed at him with soft eyes; Dean gazed back with fierce ones.

“Join me, if you would be so kind,” he said, patting the free space behind him. Castiel obliged by climbing atop the noble steed and wrapping his arms tightly around Dean’s waist.

They rose into the evening sky, higher and higher, until it seemed the moon was just out of reach.

“I have not been this close to the moon in so long,” Castiel muttered to himself. Dean thought that perhaps Castiel had not intended for him to hear the comment. Dean’s heart clenched for a moment. He took Castiel’s hand in his own and, raising it to his lips, kissed his palm. Castiel pressed himself more against Dean’s back and hummed with contentment.

With the beat of wings in front of him, the sky surrounding him, and the feel of the Ocean God against him, Dean’s soul hummed with the same contentment.

 

* * *

 

  1. Titanium




 

The Castle of the Moon was visible only at night. Its reflection on the water was a comfort to many of the mortals on Earth. In their prayers to the Moon God, they would often ask to be blessed with the honor of visiting the castle before they passed on to the next world. No human had ever set foot in any God’s castle, but it did not stop their fervent prayers.

When the new Moon God stepped foot into his castle, and he heard the anguished cries of many people – he knew that he would never be able to ignore it.

 

 

 

Castiel had not expected Dean to collapse when they first entered the castle. They had only been in there for a moment when Dean had said in a perplexed tone, “Where are those voices coming from?” Castiel had turned to face him, prepared to ask if perhaps the struggle with Impalus had drained him of the ability to make sense, only to see him fainting.

“Dean!” he shouted, hurriedly grabbing Dean and trying to support him.

Loud footsteps made their way to the front of the castle. When Castiel looked up, he recognized him immediately. Truthfully, it would have been hard not to recognize him. With long red hair and maroon colored, vertical markings high on his cheeks, Somerled was hard to forget.

“It has been too long since I last saw you, Castiel,” he said, a small smile on his tan face. He took in the sight of the Oceanic God before paying attention to the silver-skinned lad in his arms. “Is your companion alright?”

“I’m…not sure,” Castiel replied. “Could I trouble you to help me move him to a bed?”

Somerled nodded obligingly and helped Castiel carry Dean to the safety of the nearest guest bedroom. Castiel thanked Somerled for the assistance but declined to leave Dean by himself.

“It can’t be pleasant to awaken in a strange place, alone,” he said somberly. “Somerled…before he fainted, he said something about hearing voices. Did my sister ever…did she hear such things?”

Somerled looked at him with understanding and replied, “She heard the voices of mortals. Prayers. She heard their prayers. If he is able to hear them without the assistance of the chalice…Gabriel may have been right. He is meant to take over this role.”

“You have spoken with Gabriel?”

“Recently, yes. He sought my counsel before he approached Euanthe about it. He said that he had not known anyone to be more right for this than Anna.”

“Do you miss her?” Castiel whispered, his eyes bright.

Somerled’s expression turned to one of sadness. “I have not known a day in over seven hundred years when I did not.” He gave Castiel’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before leaving the room.

Castiel sat at the edge of the bed, back turned to Dean. He stared at the painting on the wall. It was simple: the moon high in the sky, illuminating the waters and ground below it. The moon did not apologize for its presence. It did not do anything but bestow kindness to the world.

I picked out that painting, he recalled. I told her it would look beautiful in this room. I was right.

Suddenly overcome with regret, Castiel retired to the chair in the corner of the room. It was large and made of soft cloth. Its scent was pleasant; it reminded him of being home.

 

 

 

 

Dean had not dreamed much as a child. The only dreams he could remember were dreams of his mother. It was always after a particularly long day of forging weapons when she would appear to him in dreams and soothe him with kind words. “I need you to keep working, Dean. You are going to do many great things. You are meant for a greater purpose.”

He always woke from those dreams with wet eyes and a burning sensation in his chest.

As a mature God, Dean did not dream at all. Gods did not need to sleep, so he avoided it as often as possible. Anything to avoid giving himself even the possibility of dreaming.

The day that Dean fainted, he dreamed for the first time in seven hundred years.

He wasn’t aware it was a dream at first. He awoke to find himself in a clearing, late in the evening. Judging by the moonlight, he was able to see that the clearing appeared to be empty. He had started to stand up when a soft voice asked, “Are you the one that is destined to change everything?”

Startled, Dean whirled around and came face to face with a beautiful Goddess. Her skin was a gentle tint of rose, and her hair was as red as the flames in every fire Dean had ever seen. He had heard stories of her beauty, but to gaze upon her was entirely different. Anna looked at him with her silvery eyes and asked again, “Are you the one?”

“I don’t – I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

“I cannot be certain either,” she laughed. “Years ago, I would have been able to tell. Tell me…are my brothers well?”

“They seem to be okay. Cas definitely – I mean, Castiel misses you fiercely.”

“Cas?” she teased, her smile growing. Dean’s face grew warm. He hadn’t meant to let it slip. “That’s something. No one has ever called him by such a name. Gabriel called him Cassy when we were children. It drove him to wish unpleasant things upon Gabriel.”

Dean stared at her, a dozen questions burning his mind. He opened his mouth as though to speak but found that none of his questions would really matter.

“Do you know why I’m in your dream?” she asked after some time.

Dean looked around the clearing. “Is that what’s happening here? A dream?” She nodded. “Huh…well then, I can’t be sure. I just remember walking into the castle and hearing…so many voices.”

Her eyes widened. “You hear them too?” she asked, clutching his arm. “I have never known any other Gods to receive the prayers of the mortals in that manner. All of the others use a chalice. At first, I thought my mind had become broken.”

“Does it just come with the duty of being Moon God?”

“So it would seem. I am no expert, of course. I have only my own experiences to go off of.” She stepped away from him. “I think that I have been waiting for you all this time.”

“Waiting? For what reason?”

“You know, I am not entirely aware. I only know that my soul did not pass on as other mortal souls do. I became stuck in this place. Maybe to ensure that you’re the One.”

Dean’s expression darkened. “You keep referencing that I’m the One. What does that mean?”

She shrugged her shoulders and replied, “I do not have the knowledge you seek. Though I will make a request, if I am permitted.” Dean nodded. “Whatever choices you make as Moon Deity, do so with confidence. Do not apologize for your actions. Only you will ever know the burden of carrying so many prayers at once. They will pray to you seeking comfort, seeking asylum, seeking to be purified, and seeking to be healed. Do not be cruel. Offer them whatever comfort you can.”

“Have the ones before me been cruel?”

“I cannot say. You are the only one I’ve met.” She leaned close to him again and kissed his cheek softly. “Remind my brother to be gentle. Remind him that he is worthy.”

Dean suddenly found that he could say nothing. She smiled again and turned away. As she walked away, the clearing was abruptly lit up by a bright light. It was overwhelming. As abruptly as it appeared, it disappeared with a loud BOOM. The force of it knocked all the air from Dean’s lungs and sent him flying.

 

 

 

 

Dean came to with a start. He bolted up in the bed and found himself gasping for air. He spied Castiel sleeping in the armchair in the corner of the room. He took several slow gulps of air and steadied himself before standing up.

Remind him that he is worthy, she had said. Who was it that made him feel as though he wasn’t worthy? What was it that made him feel as though he wasn’t worthy?

She could just as easily have been talking about Gabriel, but Dean got the feeling that the God of Thunder never doubted himself. He carried himself loosely and with complete confidence. His brother seemed more the kind who stood to the side, quiet and noble.

Dean, who had been born a “lesser” God, knew the weight of feeling unworthy. Dean, who had heard rumors that the God of Seas was a frigid lap dog, had only known Castiel to laugh and look elegant. What had gone in his every day life prior to their meeting that led others to believe him to be a callous Lord?

Castiel jerked out of his slumber when Dean came to a halt at his knees.

“You’re awake!” he said. “Are you feeling okay? Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“Yeah, Cas, I’m fine,” he mumbled. “What are you doing here still?”

Castiel hesitated briefly. “I thought it would be best. I didn’t want you to wake up alone here.”

Dean’s mouth went from a tight line to a soft smile. “Are you sure maybe you weren’t the one who was afraid of being alone?”

At that, Castiel looked a little guilty. He sighed and looked at his legs. Dean, with that same soft smile still on his face, leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Castiel. At first Castiel stiffened. Hugging – he was not accustomed to this. Dean only held on tighter. Finally, Castiel buried his face into Dean’s neck and clung to him.

“Thank you,” Dean mumbled. “For staying with me. But there’s…something I need to say to you. I have to get it out of the way.

Castiel waited for Dean to go on.

“I, uh…I need you to know that I’m into you. It’s…foolish, I think, because we’ve only known one another for a couple of days. It’s just – I don’t know if I’m into this Moon God thing but…I am into you. Is that alright?” Castiel was speechless. Dean, seizing the opportunity, grasped Castiel’s face between his hands and crushed their lips together. It was hurried, but it was passionate. Castiel’s first reaction was to seize up; his second (polar opposite) reaction was to melt. He kissed Dean back harshly, as though trying to taste his very soul.

Dean pushed forward, positioning himself between Castiel’s legs and kissing him again. Castiel placed one hand on the back of Dean’s neck, the other on his back. They continued to kiss hungrily; Castiel had never known he could want anything so badly.

Dean’s hands slipped under Castiel’s shirt, exploring his partner’s body, trailing along the ripples of muscles and the softness of his hips. He removed the shirt, and began tracing the long solid black markings with his lips, nipping the skin here and there. The moan that Castiel allowed to slip from between his lips made Dean’s groin ache.

“You’ve been lonely too long,” Dean whispered, hot mouth pressed against Castiel’s jaw. “I can feel it when I touch you. Allow me to remedy that.”

Castiel put one hand on Dean’s chest and paused. “No,” he said, “for too long, too many have been lonely. Not just me. Son of Jerahmeel, I have heard the stories of your father’s ways. I know the scars he has left on your life.” His hands resumed their ghosting over Dean’s backside. “Allow me to remedy that.”

A low growl was forming in Dean’s chest. The tension building between them as they continued to grind their bodies against one another was almost too much, and not enough at the same time.

Dean reached between Castiel’s legs and palmed at the Sea God’s erection.

“Ah, Dean,” Castiel hissed. “Please.”

“What is it that you want, Cas?” Dean teased, ceasing any hand movement. “Show me what I can do for you.”

Castiel seized Dean’s hands with his own and guided them into his pants. When Dean’s hand gripped Castiel’s erection firmly, Castiel gasped. He had never known the touch of any other being before. This was more than he had ever dreamed.

Dean stroked Castiel’s slick cock with hard strokes, gentle twists, and broad swipes with his thumb over the head. He leaned up and, as his strokes became more frantic, he bit down on Castiel’s shoulder.

Castiel began to buck into Dean’s hand. He repeated Dean’s name in a broken whisper, as a pious mortal would when praying to the Gods for sanctuary.

When Castiel climaxed, Dean nearly came undone. The sound of such a reserved being crying out his name – in ecstasy, in joy, in rapture – made him melt.

They stayed huddled together in the chair, Dean leaning heavily on Castiel. He took in the sight of Castiel, whose hair was disheveled and whose body was covered in a thin veil of sweat. He grinned.

“I did this to you,” he murmured. “I have never been so pleased with myself.”

His cockiness vanished when Castiel reached down and grabbed hold of him. “I expect to hear the same sentiment -- about me -- when I’m done with you.”

\---

Later that night, Dean sat with Castiel at the giant dining table. A pitcher of wine sat between them, plates of food sat to the side, empty.

They sat close to each other, finding any excuse to touch. They spoke in low voices, one occasionally leaning closer to hear the other speak.

“I must tell you something that I have never told another soul,” Castiel said. “I feel that you should know it. You are taking up the position my sister once held. It is only right.”

When Dean said nothing, Castiel continued. “My sister was having an affair. She fell in love with a human. That was why she chose them over our Kingdom. I had my suspicions and I…I was the one that confessed to our Father. I told him that Anna had been acting strangely. I told him I was worried about her. If I had not mentioned it…if I had kept my doubts to myself…he would never have followed her.”

Castiel’s voice grew so low that Dean nearly had to be on top of him to hear what he said next. “I am the reason my sister is gone. I have hated her since she left, but I have also missed her. She died many centuries ago. I don’t know who she was as she got old – what her favorite memories were – what made her laugh in the mortal world – but I think…she would have really liked you, Dean.”

Castiel looked up at Dean and smiled an empty smile. Dean cupped his cheek with one hand as he leaned forward and said, “I am honored that you think so highly of me.”

 

\---

A one day trip to get Dean acclimated to his new surroundings turned into seven days of blissful sex and hiding away. When Castiel finally returned to his own castle, his first duty was to make sure his people wanted for nothing. He spent the day at his chalice, watching the water swirl. He listened intently to the whispers on the ripples.

He heard pleading voices asking to be blessed with great hauls of fish; they asked for great adventures on the open waters; they asked for guidance as they moved through life. And Castiel answered their prayers.

He gave schools of fish to the fishermen’s favorite hunting areas. He called forth his greatest mysteries for people to glimpse: great monsters that rose from the depth, allowing mortals to catch glimpses of their large tails. He gave them things to write home about. And finally, he left his chair beside the chalice to wander the dreams of mortals. He whispered kind words to them and offered a calm shoulder to cry on.

He often felt this was dangerously close to interacting with mortals, but he knew of no other way to directly reassure them that he was there.

When Castiel returned to his castle, he wanted only rest. He had only just sat down at his desk when a sly voice from the corner of the room said, “Well well well. So you are alive still?”

Castiel fell out of his chair, his heart hammering. As he looked around, he saw no one else in the room. There was only one person who relied on the practical joke of invisibility.

“Gabriel,” he nearly shouted. “That was not humorous!”

Gabriel materialized next to him, laughing and offering him a hand to pull him up.

“The look on your face was very humorous,” he replied. He plopped himself down in Castiel’s now vacant seat. “Was Anna’s castle as nice as you remember it?”

Castiel’s stomach clenched. “Dean’s castle is very nice, yes.”

“Oh, Dean’s castle. Did you and Dean have an enjoyable time together? Did he keep you…mm….very busy these last few days?” Castiel’s face began to burn. When he didn’t respond, Gabriel stood up and thumped his back enthusiastically, a wide grin on his face. “This is charming! I knew I saw you giving him the sexy eyes!”

“I did not give him the ‘sexy eyes.’”

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” Gabriel started to head for the door, still grinning. “I just wanted to see if you were well. I was getting a bit worried.”

Castiel’s irritation dissipated. He offered his brother an appreciative smile. “That is kind of you to worry over someone as meaningless as me. I am touched.”

“Don’t speak about yourself that way.” Gabriel fixed him with a stern look, his air of trickery gone. “What do you plan to do with this guy?”

Castiel thought it over before giving an answer. He was aware that he had been in a daze while he was with Dean, but he was also certain that the daze would never fade.

“Do you believe in fate, brother?” he asked.

“You know how little I care for fate,” Gabriel snorted. “Was it fate that led our family to the state it’s in?”

Without missing a beat, Castiel replied with surety, “No. Our Lord Father’s grace is what led our family to where it is and spared us. You would do well to remember that.”

There was a sudden tension that sprang up between them. Things always headed this way when they began to speak of their family.

“Your devotion to the Royal family ideals is steadfast,” Gabriel noted, his voice icy. “Fate is a cruel jezebel. I try not to put my faith in her.”

Castiel chose not to respond for a while. He hated arguing with his brother. They had never argued before Anna left. He imagined it was because they didn’t have reasons to argue before. They were a thick family unit, the four of them. How they reached this point was beyond him.

When he spoke again, he said, “I feel certain that I was meant to know Dean. With whatever certainty you feel he is meant to be Lord of Moonlight, I am certain we were destined to meet. You may scoff at the thought of such a foolish thing but I have faith in it.”

Then it was Gabriel who chose not to respond. He sighed, shook his head, and took his leave.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel had always been a trouble-maker. When he was younger, he would terrorize his sister with cruel pranks. As adults, she learned how to retaliate. But as children – when he was first learning how to warp the fields of time and space, and when he discovered he could warp the very reality they were in – that did not make him a desirable hide and seek opponent. He was a rule breaker; everyone knew it and everyone found it endearing. He was simply the rebellious older child of a strict Ruler.

In the weeks leading up to Dean’s ceremony, Gabriel spent an increasing amount of time in the Moon Castle. Dean found his company to be enjoyable. They often went for walks, during which they spoke of many topics. (Dean’s favorite topic was Castiel’s humorous misadventures as a child.)

They spoke of Dean’s new role, the upcoming ceremony that Castiel was helping to plan, and other mundane things. But occasionally they broached a topic that was something they both knew they could not speak about to anyone but each other.

In the afterglow of one especially nice walk, Gabriel turned to Dean and said, “I must show you something.”

Intrigued, Dean set off with him in his chariot. They flew beyond Bahamut, Castiel’s monstrous shark, who was enjoying the cloudy day, and they came to a halt on the shores of the mainland.

“Gabriel…should we be here?” he asked uneasily. “This looks dangerously close to human land.”

“It is human land,” Gabriel said excitedly.

He guided Dean to the outskirts of the village that rested further inland. In the back of his mind, Dean could hear a voice nagging him. This is obscenely close to breaking the rules. You know the King’s rules. But he could not deny his want to put faces to the voices he heard every day. The small voices that said “Lord of the Moon, bless my family with your healing light”; the deeper voices that pleaded “Have mercy on my soul and wash me in moonlight, that I may be forgiven for my sins”; and the gentle voices that wept “Spirit of the Moon, grant me a child born on the night of the new moon, that he may be born with fortune on his side.”

Still, Dean knew how dangerous this could be if they interacted with the mortals.

Gabriel sensed his apprehension and slowed down their walking.

“I wouldn’t show this to you if I wasn’t sure you wanted it too,” he said, sounding certain of himself. “This is where I’ve been slipping off to. I’ve been helping them.”

“Helping them? With what?” Dean asked, incredulous. Surely the humans didn’t need their help with anything. They were a self-reliant race.

“I showed them how to use fire!” Gabriel declared, grinning. “You know, they didn’t even know they could use it to meld things together. Now they know how.”

“Is it…wise to show them such things?”

“Of course it is! They aren’t savages. Besides, who could misuse fire?”

A lot of people could misuse fire, Dean thought. After all, Iblis was the Master of Fire and Dean certainly did not trust him. His own father was skilled in the element of fire and Dean trusted him with nothing either.

Gabriel led him into the village, where the first thing he noticed was the hordes of children playing in the town square. He had never seen human children before. They were tiny, with pink flesh and round, well-fed bellies. Much like the children of the Gods, albeit not quite so widely colored.

They visited a tavern, where the beer was warm and the water was brown.

“I taught them how to make beer, too,” Gabriel boasted.

“As we all know, that is most important,” Dean chided. Gabriel laughed buoyantly.

  


Gabriel spent the day showing Dean the intricacies of the town. He was introduced to dozens of townsfolk that were in such awe they nearly wept at his feet.

“Never before has a God graced us with His presence,” one woman said through near-hysterical tears. She bowed before him and kissed his feet.

Dean, who was not used to such acts, gently guided her back to a standing position.

“Please,” he said, “there is no need to prostrate before me. I am only a God.”

Gabriel clapped him on the arm. “Here’s the thing, kid,” he said. “There’s no such thing as ‘only a God’ to these people. They worship us, remember? We’re the stuff of legends. You aren’t just somebody to them. You are a creator of worlds.”

Dean could not find anything to compare their feelings to. He worshipped nothing except Castiel’s naked body and he hardly thought that was the same thing.

It wasn’t that Dean had necessarily thought less of humans. He didn’t look down upon them. But he certainly thought they were much more advanced. He had pictured them differently, too. When he brought that up with Gabriel, the older God had replied, “Didn’t you know? Mortals were made in our image. They are built much the same as us.”

“Then…is their mortality all that separates them from us?”

“I believe so.” Gabriel’s tone hardened as he said, “Well…there’s that, and the fact that they have been forced into servitude. They are expected to spend their lives worshiping us. As if they don’t have their own dreams, their own ambitions.”

Dean could relate. He had spent much of his life following the ambitions his father had set for him. He had swallowed it for too long before he stood up and aimed for something more.

“The reason I brought you here is because I think you can help me,” Gabriel went on to say. “And I think you want to help me, too. I think you know that you’re meant to do this sort of thing.”

He looked at Dean knowingly. Dean, who had told no one about the dream where Anna had visited him, could not agree more.

And so, Dean consented to aiding Gabriel in his mission.

 

* * *

  


**IV. They’re just the same as us**

When Jerahmeel’s wife gave birth to their son, she had cradled the newborn in her arms and whispered gentle words to him. She named him Dean, a name she said sounded sweeter than any other.

Jerahmeel had scoffed at her. "His name will be Euanthe. It is a strong name. None will question his willpower."

As he grew older, Dean realized one thing immediately: Dean was not the same person as Euanthe. Euanthe was the strong, stoic blacksmith his father aimed for him to be. Dean was the one who dreamed of life outside of making weapons for deities that would never know a hard day’s work. Dean was just as strong as Euanthe. But Dean had compassion. Dean had heart. Euanthe was all the things his father needed him to be. Dean was everything his mother had hoped he would be.

 

Dean was what the most pure-formed Gods referred to as “the lesser”. He was not born into any royal place. He had been given reign over any element. He was a God that lived only to provide services for the more royal Gods.

When the God of Thunder had approached him about fulfilling the role of Moon God, Dean had scoffed.

"I'm just a blacksmith," he had said. "Surely there are more worthy Gods."

"It has to be you," Gabriel had insisted. “As the brother of the true Goddess of the Moon, I think I know a little something about this.”

When Dean informed his father of the Thunder God’s request, Jerahmeel had laughed at his son. He had dismissed Dean's statements that perhaps he could be the next Moon God.

“We are a family of workers,” he stated gruffly. “Do not allow the words of a Royal God to fill you with silly hopes and dreams. Forging weapons: that’s where your future lies.” His father would hear no more of the Moon God situation.

Dean made the decision to move forward with things on his own. He had no doubts about it until the day of his ceremony.

 

\---

 

On the morning of Dean’s ceremony, Castiel’s patience was wearing thin. He had been rushing around for days, double checking lists and making sure everything was where it needed to be.

Dean understood that it was stressful. He understood that these ceremonies were steeped in tradition. But after trying on the ceremonial garb, he refused to come out of his room.

“Dean, would you just allow me to look at it?” Castiel pleaded. From behind the dressing room curtain, Dean responded with a stern, “I think not. I don’t even think a ceremony is necessary at all.”

Castiel withheld an irritated sigh. He yanked the curtain back as he said, “Honestly, it can’t be that bad.”

What met his eyes nearly made Castiel take his words back. Dean was dressed in a form-fitting suit that sparkled so much it was painful to the eye. As if the sparkles weren’t enough, the suit was hot pink. There were large, obnoxious ruffles on the sleeves and collar. Dean looked at Castiel with a tired expression.

“It…it is unpleasant,” Castiel conceded. “Perhaps this is Gabriel’s idea of a joke.”

“I will go to this ceremony naked,” Dean threatened, his voice an angry growl.

“That is entirely unnecessary. As if the crowd of gathered Gods and Goddesses needs to see your naked form. Be considerate.” Castiel touched various points on the outfit, grimacing as he realized this may be beyond his ability to fix things.

“You’ve never complained about my naked form.” Dean’s mouth formed a pout.

“I was protecting your heart from being wounded. Now you know my true feelings on the matter.”

Dean chuckled softly as he removed the garments from his body. They only had a little while until the ceremony began so he knew Castiel was pressed for time. He also knew it was unfair of him to want a wardrobe change this close to the ceremony beginning but…he had only seen the suit for the first time that morning.

Gabriel had dropped it off before hurrying away. He had “seriously important things to tend to.”

Castiel had insisted that Dean try it on. Castiel had insisted that it would be much better once it was actually on him. Castiel had been wrong.

There was no helping the bulky thing. Dean suggested they burn it. Castiel scowled and told him to behave like a grown God.

When Dean refused to put it back on, Castiel sought out Somerled. Somerled offered him a very lovely dress that his sister had worn once. Ignoring the lurch in his stomach, he forced a laugh and declined the offer.

“I think it would go splendidly with the young God’s eyes,” Somerled lamented. “But if you insist on dressing properly, I suppose I could lend him the suit Anna had made for me. We’re nearly the same size. It could work.”

Castiel nearly fell over with thanks. He paused for a moment to reflect on how relieved he had been when Somerled agreed to stay on as Dean’s counsel. He had counseled Anna in all her years as Goddess. He would have trusted no one else in helping to guide Dean.

By the time Castiel returned to Dean with the new garments, Dean’s irritation was showing. “I’m so tired of this already,” he whined. “I’m not one for frivolous celebrations. Isn’t it enough that I am a true God now?”

“The ceremony is tradition,” Castiel quipped. “It is to keep my Father happy. He likes these kinds of things.”

“Is your father even here?”

“Well…to be truthful, I am not certain. But he can see these things from anywhere. He’s not limited in that way.”

“And what are you?”

Castiel furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Are you limited?”

“We are all more limited than He is. I am only a God.”

“What are you underneath that?”

Castiel gave Dean a strange look as he helped him tie his shirt. After a moment he said,“When you strip away my vessel, I am but waves upon the shore.”

“What does that make me?”

“You are the shining presence at night that gives the world hope. You are the rays of moonlight that bounce off the surface of the ocean. You help me to be.” Whatever answered Dean had expected, it had not been that one. Castiel laughed. “Don’t look so shocked.”

Dean leaned his forehead against Castiel’s and sighed, “You surprise me all the time.”

“Maybe one day, you’ll surprise me.”

Castiel said it with a wink and a grin, but Dean grew somber. He was going to surprise Castiel with the truth about his time spent with Gabriel recently. He didn’t want to lie to him any longer.

 

* * *

 

Dean and Gabriel grew to spend an increasing amount of time in the human village. Dean was particularly enthusiastic about helping the children learn to read and write. It was a small village whose chief was literate, fortunately, but his literacy went no further than himself.

“You know, it truly is a pity that our old man won’t allow himself to know these people,” Gabriel lamented one morning as he helped Dean pick fruits from the dilapidated trees surrounding the village. “Look at the potential in these trees! It just hasn’t rained nearly enough here. I should speak with Castiel about this.”

“Aren’t the skies your area?” Dean questioned, prodding one sad-looking tree with his finger.

“Yes but I also work with my brother to gather the water I need for the rain.”

“I always wondered how that worked.”

“The rain?”

Dean shrugged. “All of it, I suppose. I never associated with anyone else before you dragged me from the cave we forged weapons in. I knew things went a certain way and that was it.”

Gabriel studied him intently. “I gather the water from bodies of water; seas, lakes, rivers. All water stems from my brother. But the smaller things, like lakes and rivers – those are governed by a small number of other Gods that Castiel has entrusted with the duties of helping to watch his people. I find them to be insufferable.”

Dean laughed, “What makes them so insufferable?”

Gabriel dropped the basket of fruit and threw his arms out in exasperation. “They’re so stiff! They only follow orders. They question nothing. My brother, as strict as others see him, is only that way because our Father taught him to be that way. But I remember how distraught he was when Anna left. He has that spark in him, I know he does. He is not a fool. Castiel is intelligent. He was the one that discovered we needed to work together to bless the lands with rain, you know.

“Before, our Father simply made water fall from the skies. But Castiel wanted to know how it worked. He wanted to understand it. Eventually he discovered that the strength of the sun – the environment, really – makes the water…disappear almost. And that supplies the clouds with a form of water that can then be returned to the planet. So our Father supplies the sunlight; Castiel supplies the water; I ready my clouds for receiving the moisture and we replenish the lands.”

Impressed, Dean began to smile. Of course Cas would be the one to be so enthused about something so seemingly simple as rain.

After a moment Dean said, “I’m going to tell Cas.”

“That I think he’s intelligent? No. He’s going to think I meant it.” Gabriel smirked a little as they picked up the other baskets of fruits and headed back.

“Yes Gabriel, this is absolutely all about you. You are all I have to talk about…. No, I’m going to tell him about where I’ve been going.” Gabriel’s face grew serious and he stopped walking beside Dean. Dean continued to walk, speaking loudly so that he would be heard as he said, “I know you think it’s unwise but I think he can come to understand this.”

“Unwise is putting it mildly. Cassy…he isn’t okay with rule breaking. He fears our family.”

“And you don’t?”

“My certainty that I’m right is stronger than the fear of my Father,” Gabriel shrugged. Dean couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s good to know that even in the face of death, your arrogance reigns supreme.” As Gabriel caught up to him, Dean gave him a thump on the back.

 

\--- 

 

Castiel was a man possessed. He was certain he was onto something. He wanted to give his worshippers something to eat that was delicious yet easy to carry. He knew eating fish while at sea must grow tiresome.

He needed…some sort of pocket to put the food in. But it seemed a waste to put that food in a basket. Suppose they could wrap the food in an edible casing; that would be convenient. He’d gotten the idea when he saw Dean scooping up his meal with his bread. At the time, Castiel had wrinkled his nose and reminded Dean that they had created utensils for this purpose. Dean had responded that he appreciated utensils but his way was “yummier”.

But when Castiel thought on it later, he decided it wasn’t such a bad idea.

 

When Dean arrived to see Castiel, he found his beloved Sea God bent over the table, straining himself as he reached for something. Chuckling heartily, Dean walked up behind him and said, “You are a God. You could will that thing toward you.”

Castiel looked back and smiled. “Just because we are capable of doing things the easy way doesn’t mean we should,” he replied.

Dean leaned himself over Castiel and waved his fingers at the instrument in question. It scooted two inches closer. Castiel grasped it happily.

“That was generous of you.” As he tried to scoot off the table, he found himself trapped against Dean’s body.

“It was extremely generous of me,” Dean agreed, a grin on his face. “How would you like to show your appreciation for my generosity?”

Castiel began to laugh. He pressed his backside against Dean harder. “I can show you my appreciation another time. I’m making something right now.”

“What are you making, exactly?” Dean asked as he stood back, allowing Castiel room to straighten up.

“I’m not entirely certain,” he admitted. “I was just putting something together to give to the mortals. Something they can take with them when they travel across my waters.”

He busied himself with mixing and flattening things once more. Dean admired him from a seat at the table.

“How do you intend to give this fun thing to the mortals?” Dean asked as Castiel busied himself with folding the mixture over itself in a round shape.

Castiel turned to face him, hands covered in food. “I am not entirely certain about that either.” He sighed and traipsed over to where Dean sat, plopping down onto his lap. “I could give the idea to one mortal and he would most likely spread it amongst his brethren.”

“You could always give it to them yourself,” Dean offered. Castiel gave him an alarmed look.

“No, never. That rule exists for a reason.”

“What reason is that again?”

“You know the reason by now. Although…mostly it was because my brother-in-law was so upset. Of course, Iblis is angered by many things so I’m not certain his reaction was the best to go off of – “

Dean sputtered. “Hold on! Did you – Iblis is your what?”

“Brother-in-law. My sister took him as her beloved.” Dean stared at Castiel incredulously. “Why are you looking at me like that? I have mentioned this before.”

“You have never mentioned this!”

“Why are you making such uproar?”

“I just…you never told me!” Dean placed his hands on Castiel’s hips as he shook his head. “No wonder you’re always afraid of breaking the rules. If I had family like Iblis…I wouldn’t put a toe out of line either.”

Something flickered across Dean’s face that Castiel found indiscernible. It certainly wasn’t a happy expression. He took his dough covered hands and smeared them across Dean’s face.

“Hey!” Dean cried, swatting at Castiel’s hands. Castiel laughed, his heart becoming lighter when the trouble dissipated on his Moon’s face. Dean tsked at him in mock anger. “You’re a mess.”

Rather than respond, Castiel offered a look of innocent apology. Dean grinned before he caught his lover’s lips in a rough kiss. Castiel enjoyed the rest of that night bent over the table and blurting out Dean’s name in a hurried, lustful chant.

  
  


Castiel woke the next morning, Dean was not beside him in bed. He wandered the halls of the castle blearily. Finally he found the Moon God at the dining table, picking at the remains of a dark orange.

“Hey Cas,” he said when he spotted Castiel across the room. His smile was meek as he continued to pick at the fruit peelings.

“You weren’t beside me when I woke,” Castiel stated. “What are you doing in here all alone?”

“I was just having some breakfast. Come sit with me.”

Castiel’s mouth formed a frown as he trudged over to the empty seat beside Dean. Dean rested one hand on his thigh gently and sighed. Castiel’s concern was mounting.

“Why are you so morose this morning?” he inquired. “Were you unable to find rest last night?”

“Yeah, actually, it was really hard to sleep,” Dean confessed. His voice was so low that Castiel had to lean forward to hear him properly. “Cas, I need to tell you something.”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I’m afraid that you might think of me differently when I tell you the truth. No, don’t look frightened! I’m not going anywhere. It’s just…I’ve been doing things in my spare time. I need you to know about them.”

Castiel wondered silently what Dean could possibly have been doing that would make him feel so guilty.

“I suppose I should stop stalling and just say it. I’ve been visiting villages and befriending the mortals there.”

He said it so quickly that Castiel was certain he had misheard. Because there was no circumstance under which Dean would put them in such danger. Castiel gaped at him.

After several stunned moments, Dean said with trepidation, “Cas? Did you hear me? I said – “

“No.” Castiel cut him off. “Do not repeat those words. Don’t you dare.”

“But, if you would just listen to me!”

Castiel’s voice shook with anger. “Dean. You –” He poked Dean hard in the chest. “—have no idea what you have done! Do you have any idea what will happen when my Father finds out?!”

“If he finds out. Do you really think I would put us in harm’s way?”

“What I think is that you are always going to do whatever you think is right. But you are wrong, Dean. You are wrong this time.” Castiel sat back in his chair, hands splayed in earnest. “Why would you do this?”

“Because those people deserve to be on equal footing with us! Gabriel said –“

“Of course my brother had something to do with this.” Castiel rolled his eyes as he grunted in frustration.

“-- they deserve to receive help if they need it! He’s right, Cas!”

“Are you implying that they receive no aid? That is what we do, Dean, we aid them. We answer their prayers!”

Dean erupted into a bellow. “You answer their prayers at a distance! You have as little involvement as possible! You are not only a creator, Cas, that is not your only duty. You are a ruler. You owe it to your followers to treat them with dignity.”

Castiel looked as though he had been slapped. He stood up from his chair with such force that the chair went flying backward; it smashed into the wall and fell to the floor in pieces. When he bolted from the castle, he blew the doors open with such ferocity that there were splits in the great oak boards.

By the time he reached the emptiness of the forest surrounding his castle, Dean had caught up to him. He called out Castiel’s name frantically, begging him to stop.

“You dare say to me that I have as little involvement as possible?!” Castiel shouted, whirling around angrily. “I, who have given his people more than any other God ever has!”

“I’m sorry!” Dean responded. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was angry! I know…I know that you care about them. Would you just calm down? You’re churning the waters, I can hear it all the way out here!”

Castiel fought to keep calm. His fists trembled with anger; the waters continued to crash against each other in choppy waves.

“What I said was wrong,” Dean pleaded. “I only meant – look what you were doing last night, Cas. You spent the whole night concocting a more convenient way for the mortals to eat their food while they travel. Yet you are too frightened to even go near them with the idea! You toss the idea at someone from a distance. That is ludicrous! You should be free to let them know yourself what you have done for them! They deserve to be spoken to like they matter.”

Dean rushed forward and grabbed Castiel’s fists. He brought them up to his lips and kissed them tenderly.

“I am telling you the truth because I know you love them,” he said, his eyes searching Castiel’s face beseechingly. “I know that you want them to be self-reliant. I know you believe in them. But your Father’s prejudice is still clouding your vision. Trust me, please.”

As angry as Castiel was, he trusted Dean. When Dean uttered the words “Trust me, please” – Castiel’s resolve crumbled. He had never seen Dean so insistent about anything.

“What would you have me do?” he asked quietly.

“Just visit the town with me. I need you to at least see it.” Dean’s voice was heavy with emotion. He held onto Castiel’s hands desperately. “I would never lead you astray.”

Castiel said nothing; he only nodded.

 

\---

  


In a town off the shores of the ocean that a benevolent God ruled, there lived a man named Crowley. He was a bargaining man; one who traded information to the jinn in exchange for favors. He watched his town closely for any interesting goings-on, waiting for the opportunity to discover something new.

He took notice of the days when three bright-skinned deities visited their small town. They brought sweets and thick volumes of knowledge with them. They spent their days telling the townspeople over and over: You are self-reliant. You are just as worthy as we.

He listened intently to their low voices when, one day, they arranged to come back to this particular village and bring back the tools the villagers would need to demonstrate their new theories on a better irrigation system.

 

When Crowley relayed this message to the demon Megara, he found himself rewarded with a handsome scythe. The scythe, Meg said, was guaranteed to turn anything its tip touched into gold. This was Crowley’s greatest treasure yet.

  


In the depths of Hell, in the darkness of the loneliest realm, the Master of Fire laughed hatefully when his faithful Megara delivered the news to him that a blue-skinned God had been seen fraternizing with mortals.

“This is going to be so much fun,” he cooed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Depictions of torture/violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Iblis) said: "O my Lord! Give me then respite till the Day the (dead) are raised."  
> (Allah) said: "Respite then is granted thee Till the Day of the Time Appointed."  
> (Iblis) said: "Then, by Thy power, I will put them all in the wrong, Except Thy Servants amongst them, sincere and purified (by Thy Grace)."  
> (Allah) said: "Then it is just and fitting- and I say what is just and fitting- That I will certainly fill Hell with thee and those that follow thee, every one."

**Part II**

**I. For every kiss your beauty trumped my doubt**

_Gods do not need to breathe, Castiel._   
_Gods do not need to acknowledge the physical sensations they may experience._   
_You are royalty, Castiel. Do not forget that._

These were things his Father had said to him during his mourning period.

When Castiel came to the realization that his sister would never return to their home, he could feel his heart break. The guilt that he felt weighed heavy on his conscience. He had confessed this fact to his Father – the mightiest of all the Gods – He who created the humans, modeled them after the Gods – He who set the weight of the world upon the shoulders of his remaining children – and his Father had responded, “Impossible, my son. You are a God. We are above such things. Gods do not need to acknowledge the physical sensations they may experience.”

When Castiel had sobbed so hard that he was gasping for air, his Father had struck him in the face. Gabriel had come rushing to his side, trying to soothe him.

“I need air,” he had sobbed as he clung desperately to his brother. “I can’t breathe.”

“Gods do not need to breathe, Castiel,” his Father had said impassively, gazing at his son with disdain.

When Castiel had yelled at his Father for driving Anna away, his Father had said simply, "You are royalty, Castiel. Do not forget that. Your temper tantrum is not becoming at all."

Whenever Castiel made any decision, he remembered those words: You are Royalty. Every decision he made had to be something his entire family would support. Every public statement had to reflect what the family stood for. There could be no mistakes. Not after Anna left.

When his Father discovered that he had been consorting with humans, Castiel was whisked away to Crarae.

Crarae was beautiful. It was a land high in the Heavens, with lush green grass and flowers that sang as a means of communications. The castle there was large and breathtaking; with walls the color of rose petals and floors covered in carpets as soft as the clouds, it was envied by all.

The dungeon was the only unpleasant thing about the castle of Crarae. It smelled of blood and was so dark that not even the lowest creatures dared to enter it. This was where Castiel spent many nights with Iblis.

Chained to a cold table, Castiel had never felt more helpless in his long life.

"You thought you were going to get away with it, didn't you?" Iblis would whisper as he plunged hot metal rods into Castiel's upper body. Castiel would scream and sob. This only fueled Iblis' torture.

"If my Anna was not allowed to associate with them, what made you think you could be any different?" he would say as he scraped his long claws down Castiel's thighs. Castiel would say nothing; he only sobbed harder.

“Are you proud of the decisions you have made, little bird?” he would ask as he inserted sharp objects underneath Castiel’s skin. Castiel’s breathing would become labored and he would go limp. Iblis got the most joy out of that particular method.

When simple methods of torture were not enough, Iblis was given permission to implant new wants and desires in Castiel's mind. Iblis was the only God capable of such dirty things, and he liked it that way.

He implanted his wants in others by throwing them into his pit. It was full of parasites; long, ravenous worms that burrowed into his victim’s skin and whispered words of darkness.

"That foolish young God has forced this upon you," he crooned softly into Castiel's ear as they stood at the top of the pit. He held Castiel roughly by his hair. "He has put you in this position. I need you to hate him. I need you to resent him."

"I will not," Castiel gritted out between clenched teeth.

"YOU MUST CHOOSE, CASTIEL," Iblis shouted gleefully. " **PICK A SIDE.** DAMN YOURSELF TO A FATE."

“I have chosen! I am choosing the right path!” Castiel's body shook from the strain of his shouting. His eyes, wet with tears, shone bright. Iblis cackled, running a black claw up Castiel's spine.

“THE RIGHT PATH HAS LANDED YOU HERE, LITTLE BIRD! THE RIGHTEOUS PATH THAT YOU THINK YOU FOLLOW HAS LANDED YOU IN THE PATH OF YOUR FATHER’S IRE. **IS IT AS RIGHT AS YOU THOUGHT IT WOULD BE?** ”

Before Castiel could think of anything to say back, Iblis shoved him into the pit. Castiel landed roughly on the wriggling mass of worms.

He at first tried to get them off. He fought frantically to rip them loose when they began to bury their teeth into his body. But he sank deeper into the mass far more quickly than he was able to push them away. When the first worm buried its head into him, he cried out in agony. Once it was under his skin, the worm became painfully swollen. They buried themselves in every orifice they could find, violating him fully.

When Castiel became limp with shock and stopped responding, Iblis laughed at him. Castiel would remember that laugh when he was at his lowest; alone in the dark, with no one by his side, he would always remember the maniacal laugh that the Ruler of Hell let loose.

 

* * *

 

Dean had begun to grow antsy. Gabriel was pacing back and forth. It was not like Castiel to keep them waiting.

"C’mon Cas," Dean mumbled to himself. "Where are you?"

When Castiel had still not shown himself, Gabriel made the decision to go on without him. Dean trudged along half-heartedly, not daring to believe that Castiel would abandon them.

They were almost to the village when Castiel appeared. Dean knew right away that something was wrong. He looked worn down; as an exhausted instrument might after years of misuse. “Where have you been, Cas?” Dean demanded. “We haven’t seen you for weeks!”

When he saw the angry cuts on Castiel’s forearms, his anger faltered. “You’re – you’re wounded. What happened to you?”

Castiel’s eyes were blank when he looked at them. When he spoke, it was in a lackluster tone.

“I will not be accompanying you on this day,” he announced. “You would do well to put this foolish behavior – these foolish thoughts – out of your minds.”

Gabriel squinted at him. “Don’t tell me you’re going back on your word,” he exclaimed. “You promised to help us!”

Castiel shook his head. “I promised you nothing. I owe you nothing. The only thing I am bound to is my role in this world. I serve a greater purpose. I do not serve you.”

“Cas…this is not your behavior,” Dean pleaded. He took Castiel’s hand into his, kissed the tips of his fingers. When he continued to speak, his voice became softer. “Listen to me. If you want out, that’s okay. Go home and rest. You look…you look awful.”

Castiel opened his mouth, wanting to tell Dean how much this all meant to him…but the words became lodged in his throat. He closed his mouth once more and tore his gaze away from his lover’s distraught face. He turned to walk away.

“I know it was you that told Father about Anna,” Gabriel said hurriedly. Though his back was turned, Gabriel knew his brother’s face was riddled with pain. “I am begging you, Cassy. Don’t tell him about this.”

Castiel came to a halt. Without bothering to look over his shoulder he warned, “You must leave this place. You have to go. I cannot…I cannot remember what they…whether or not they know…” Tears began to form in his eyes. He clenched his hand into a fist and tried to steady his voice as he said, “I cannot assure you that I revealed no information. They might…it is possible that they pulled something out of me and I do not remember…you are not safe here.”

“Who are they, Cas?” Dean asked, moving forward to be closer to him. “Did they do something to you?”

Without warning, Castiel whirled around and marched back to Dean. He yanked Dean toward him and kissed him with a fierceness that Dean had not known he was capable of.

“I implore you,” he whispered as he separated his face from Dean’s, “leave this place. You are not safe.”

As quickly as Castiel had been against him, kissing him and leaving a taste of sorrow in his mouth, he was gone. Dean called after him, but there was no response.

Gabriel stood alone, shaking and in disbelief. This was not like his brother. It was especially unlike him to abandon Dean so suddenly. Baby bro, what are you doing? he wondered.

  
  
  
  


 

 

An hour after Castiel’s departure, Gabriel and Dean were still arguing over what to do.

“Something isn’t right here,” Dean insisted. “Suppose he’s right. Someone did something to him. You saw the state of him, Gabriel. He is not okay.”

“Allow me to counter that,” Gabriel responded. “Suppose that this is the trap. I’m not going to chase after him.”

Dean stopped pacing for a moment and grew quiet. He needed to think.

After several moments he asked, “What was it like before your sister left? When your father found out – what happened?”

Gabriel thought about it. “He tortured those closest to her. She was nowhere to be found after their argument. I mean…he confronted her first. He called us all in, as if it were a big dinner. Like everything was normal. Then he asked her if it was true that she had been consorting with a mortal man. She acknowledged it, said it was all true…”

“That was when she left, right?”

“Yes. But none of us knew, at first, that she had gone away for good. Not until we could…feel it in our cores…we could feel it when she gave up her immortality.” Gabriel shivered at the memory. He could still hear her scream as it echoed across the lands; it was a level of anguish that Gabriel could never forget.

“It’s humorous,” he continued on to say. “When she left us, we both thought surely she must have gone mad. We could not comprehend why anyone would abandon their duties. Now I understand.”

 

 

 

 

 

Castiel’s castle felt cold and empty. When he returned home, he was greeted by Samandriel, who offered him a dozen remedies that were sure to perk him right up. Castiel refused any aid and, after assuring his loyal servant that he would be fine, instead went to his bed chamber.

He drew the curtains of his room closed and sat on the edge of his large bed. In the corner, his mirror showed his reflection from the bed. He stared at himself as he removed his tunic and took in all the visible marks; the vivid bruises on his neck, the lines along his jaw, the lumps on his thighs, the gashes littered across his arms and chest. He wondered if humans were this slow to heal. If they possessed weapons that could scar beyond the physical realm; weapons that left wounds on the soul.

Dean would know, he realized.

He knew that he should go back for Dean. He knew that he should make sure – be absolutely certain – that no one was after them. But he was too tired. Everything in him ached.

He removed the rest of garments he wore, tossed them lazily onto the floor, and curled up on the bed.

II. We will be with you when you’re leaving

Castiel woke to the feeling of something pressed against his backside. He jerked away from it and nearly fell out of the bed before a pair of strong hands clamped onto his arm.

“It’s only me,” Dean mumbled, pulling Castiel closer to him once more. Dean could feel Castiel’s heart hammering away beneath his hands. He frowned. “Why is your body reacting this way? You’ve never been so frightened by me before.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel whispered, rolling over to face him. “I…I was not expecting your company in bed.”

“I am always with you. Why wouldn’t you expect me on this night?”

Castiel couldn’t bring himself to tell Dean that this wasn’t safe. He had expected Dean to heed his warning and hide. In lieu of saying something sad, Castiel kissed him. Dean responded enthusiastically. But when Castiel began to grind against him, Dean slowed him down.

“If you keep this up, you’re going to start something that you may not be in the mood to finish,” he said. “Go back to sleep. You need it.”

“Gods do not require sleep,” Castiel scoffed.

“Today, you do.”

“Dean please. Please.” Castiel’s hands skimmed over Dean’s chest and arms feverishly, silently begging to be guided somewhere. But Dean was set – he was not about to make love to Castel after such a taxing day.

“Tell me who did this to you,” he demanded as he ran a reassuring hand down his partner’s back. Castiel’s face was wiped of any emotion.

“I cannot.” He abruptly became unwilling to look Dean in the eye.

“Was it your Father? Did he do this?”

Again, Castiel said, “Dean, please.” But this time it was sad with defeat. It was a request to stop. It was a request to leave the topic alone.

“I am not backing down again. If your Father is not willing to let us do what we must peacefully, if he is unwilling to help the mortals that he created, then I will not be afraid to face him.”

“Don’t do this, Dean. Don’t make me choose. I am begging you.”

Dean sat up angrily, disentangling himself from Castiel. His chest began to hurt. “Make you choose?” he echoed in disbelief. “I have not forced you to choose anything. You have always done as you see fit. Choose between what options?”

“It was foolish to think my Father would never find out.” Castiel was not listening to him. He was instead mumbling to himself. “He created us. He knows everything eventually.”

As Dean watched his lover continue to fall apart, he made a decision: he would go to see the King of Kings as soon as he could. He knew their Father had something to do with this.

 

* * *

 

 

The tales that surrounded the King of Kings were not always pleasant. It was said that he had never been created by any God; He had simply come to be. He was the Ruler of All: The Almighty.

No one knew what made him want to create a family, but some believed he only aimed to create an army. He went through many things to test out what constituted a “God”. The ones he dubbed mistakes were thrown into the middle grounds; what would later come to be Purgatory. This was where he would go on to house the souls of the reincarnated. This was his ultimate torture: damning souls to repeat their last acts in a mundane world.

He forged himself a wife, the Merciful Mother, who would go on to bear Him three children: Anael, Gabriel, and Castiel. These were the first of all true Gods. They bore heavy crosses on their shoulders. They were the Chosen. They were the examples for every God that would follow.

When their mother was murdered, their Almighty Father constructed Hell. This was where he threw the wicked. This was where he would house the most potent of evil souls.

And so He created Iblis, who would go on to rule Hell. He was the Master of Fire. Iblis was the first and only God to court Anael. She was incredibly beautiful, with skin the lightest shade of pink, and when she spoke, it filled him with a light he had not known could possibly exist.

Iblis loved her more than any soul on the planet would ever comprehend. Anael loved only Iblis, until her Father created the mortals.

He created them, He said, so that they might have a subservient species that would worship them. He created them so that they might be rightfully praised as the most powerful beings in the galaxy.

Anael found them peculiar. They looked like simpler versions of the Gods. They had no powers. They controlled no elements. They had no powerful beasts to fight their wars. They had only their hands and their minds.

Anael was the first Fallen Idol. When she found herself in love with a male mortal, she offered to give away her birth rights so that she could live out her days with him. She was not content to live beyond him.

When Iblis discovered this, he was irate. He flew into a rage so deep that he destroyed an entire continent. He set his hellhounds loose upon the world. He set his jinn free to fill humans with ugly desires, that they might instill the wrath of the Almighty upon themselves.

By the time the King of Kings realized how out of control the humans had become, he had grown to hate them. When he discovered that his daughter was fraternizing with them, bringing shame upon his family by choosing to side with them, his ire was felt by the entire Kingdom.

And so the rule was born: Humans were, under no circumstances, to be held close to a God’s heart. A God was meant to grant them whatever they needed to survive, and that was all. They were not allowed to take pity upon their people. They were not permitted to love their people, who worshipped them endlessly.

Dean had known from the moment he stepped foot into his first human village: This was a risk that could ruin everything in his life. But he knew, in his soul, that he had to change things. These humans deserved help. They had not asked to be created and forced to worship Gods. He knew from the moment he heard the cries of his faithful worshipers: He would one day come face to face with the King of Kings.

  
  
  


Gabriel went with Dean to Crarae. It was only right, he said, that he should be the one to go.

When they arrived, they were surprised to find the castle and its yards empty, save for the King, who sat at a throne in the yard as though he had waited an eternity for this moment. He was dressed in a golden suit of armor, which struck Dean as odd. The King seemed ready for battle.

“This is the first meeting we’ve ever had, yes?” the King asked, looking at Dean.

“I believe so,” Dean replied. He took one step closer to the throne and bowed deeply. “An honor to at last lay eyes upon you, great King.”

The King smirked. He was not one for false pleasantries.

“I wish to save you the time and effort of explaining why you are here,” he said, standing and towering over them both. “I am aware of your callous actions. I know that there is not one deity in all of the Kingdom who is not aware of our most absolute rule.”

“You mean the absolute dumbest rule?” Gabriel snorted. “I think we might be acquainted with it.”

“Watch your tone, son,” the King bristled. “Do you think yourself above my reproach simply because you are mine?”

“On the contrary, I figure I’ll probably get it worse than anyone else would. It’s been worth it. We’ve changed things. Humans know they can accomplish much more now. They know that they deserve more.”

“Do you think it outside my realm of control to erase that sense of entitlement?” came the King’s thundering voice. “Do you forget that it was I who created all of you? Do not forget that it is I who can take it away!”

The silence that followed was deafening. Gabriel stood beside Dean, shaking with rage. Outside the castle, the low rumble of thunder started in the distance.

The King began to laugh. “Are you threatening me?” he asked, his tone mocking. “Do you think that you are capable of battling me, boy?”

Before Gabriel could respond, a voice from the other side of the court yard yelled, “Father? Are you out here?”

Dean’s heart stopped. Cas. What was Cas doing here?

“My son,” the King said, turning around to face his youngest child. “Come enjoy this beautiful weather with me.”

Castiel walked up to his Father, confusion written on his face. When he laid eyes on Gabriel and Dean, he shook his head, not understanding.

“What are you two doing here?” he asked.

“Cas,” Dean began, taking a step forward. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“I only came here to reason with my Father.”

“There is no reasoning with him, don’t you see that?” Gabriel shouted. “He wears armor, ready to fight! He knew his sons were coming and yet he prepared himself for battle! Do you see now what sort of deity he is?”

A look of uncertainty flickered over Castiel’s features. He took in the scene before him: His brother, dressed in only robes of white; his Dean, in simple garbs of purple; and his Father, in golden armor with his mighty sword at his waist. It did appear suspicious but…this was their Father. He had created them from nothingness. He had given them life.

“This is all a waste of my time,” their Father said, cutting into Castiel’s uncertainty. “I have already given Iblis the charge of tending to the humans.”

Gabriel’s face was drained of all its color.

“You…you did what?” he said, voice hollow with disbelief.

Their Father sighed. He took a step forward, his hand held out. “Stop fighting with me, my son, and come inside.”

Gabriel backed away, shaking his head. With his staff in his right hand, he brought it down swiftly into the ground. There was a loud boom as the clouds crashed together. From behind the castle, a giant wind tunnel began to form. Dean realized with awe that Gabriel was forming tornadoes, and he intended to attack the King.

Castiel rose to the challenge: He sent his own funnel of water crashing into Gabriel’s, trying to subdue it. With the water filling it up, he had equal control of it. Frustrated, Gabriel charged at his brother.

Castiel allowed himself to be pummeled. He was thrown mercilessly against the castle wall. In the distance, the tornado dispersed.

“If attacking me will make you feel better,” Castiel said as he stood up slowly, “then by all means – do it. But I will not allow you to attack our Father. You will not commit such a travesty.”

“You would defend the bastard that is trying to ruin this world?” Gabriel demanded, his voice an angry quake.

“I would defend this world period! This is not about us!”

The King came to stand between his sons. He shoved Gabriel backward. “What do you think would become of this world without me?” he inquired. “It would cease to exist. I am the King of Kings. The ruler of all things living, and all things past, and all things future. This is all Mine.”

As the brothers continued to argue with their Father, Dean headed out of the court yard. Frantically, he called for Impalus. His faithful steed was there in a moment, wings poised and ready to fly. Dean climbed atop the great Pegasus and they took off.

  
  


 

 

Below the Heavens, on a large continent filled with lush greens and beautiful lakes, rested a small town called Sherwood. Its people had happily welcomed Dean and all his advice. They were quick learners; they grasped the concept of how to forge weapons and other household items. They came to understand various cooking methods. They were not mindless apes.

But when Dean arrived at his favorite village, he found it in chaos. Homes were engulfed in flames. Children sat on the streets, crying and screaming for their mothers. There were women weeping over dead bodies; bodies of their husbands, their children, their sisters. Bandits were openly rummaging through the stores. This was not the Sherwood that Dean had known.

And on the opposite end of town, near the forest, stood the shadowy form that was Iblis. He wriggled his black claws at Dean, a broad smirk on his face.

This was not his village, Dean knew it. This was another pure thing that had been corrupted by the touch of Iblis.

 

 

 

In Crarae, the brothers were having no luck with their Father. They had only continued to butt heads.

“At least allow me to show you the village!” Gabriel boomed. “You have judged them and condemned them when you have never set foot there!”

“I have condemned them to NOTHING!” the King responded. “they have condemned themselves. They damned themselves to failure when they sought to lure my daughter away from me.”

“Anna fell for a human of her own free will! She left only after you drove her away!” Once more, Gabriel bristled with anger. The clouds darkened in the sky; in turn the waters of the ocean began to churn in choppy waves.

“Father, please. Do not allow Iblis to ruin the village before you have even seen it,” Castiel said in a low voice. “Allow Gabriel to at least show you.”

With a snarl, their Father agreed.

 

* * *

 

Dean made to charge through the village. His only target was Iblis.

But Iblis was too fast. He moved as black smoke, wistful and silent. Dean could hear soft laughter echoing around him.

Beyond the laughter, in the distance, he heard the familiar ring of Gabriel’s voice.

“What…what happened?”

Dean guided Impalus around and saw Gabriel, who had fallen to his knees, staring into the village.

“What is the meaning of this?” came the King’s voice from behind his son. “This is a gross travesty. This is what you wished me to see?”

Castiel, too, was perplexed. He did not know this village. He knew Sherwood, yes, but this was…this was akin to the chaos of Hades.

When his sons could not answer, the King of Kings made up his mind. “I will smite the town myself,” he announced. “Get you away from this pit, all of you.”

“No.” Castiel looked up in surprise. His brother was getting to his feet, defiance etched on his face, and voice purposeful. “This is foul play. You set this up.”

The King’s laughter was a booming echo in the silent forest. “As if I would need to set anything up. These are mortals in their natural ways. I told you, my son. They are savages.”

“I don’t believe that,” Gabriel quaked. “My sister would not have given up everything for savages. Your judgment is clouded. You refuse to see beyond your hatred.”

Not for the first time, the King had grown agitated with his son’s attitude. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Gabriel.

“Stand down,” he commanded. Gabriel shook his head defiantly. He unsheathed his own sword, which crackled with lighting.

Suddenly, they threw themselves at one another. Their swords made a resonating clanging sound as they met in the air.

Castiel looked on in horror and agony. All of this…because he had not been strong enough to resist his father’s commands; because he had not been strong enough to resist Iblis.

When the King plunged his sword through his son’s chest, the world stopped – it fell silent. And suddenly, in a whoosh, the sky erupted. Lightning bolts slammed into the Earth, decimating anything in their path. The sky darkened and poured down sheets of rain. The ground erupted with fiery streams of anger. The planet was at a loss.

But the greatest sound of despair came in the form of an anguished cry that burst forth from Castiel’s chest and blossomed out from his lips.

Gabriel looked at his Father, betrayal and hurt in his eyes, amber liquid dripping from his mouth and gaping wound. “May you never find reprieve from the anger that consumes you,” he whispered as he crumpled to the ground.

The King felt a momentary stab of remorse. He had not foreseen things unfolding this way. Perhaps he had purposely blocked this possible timeline from his vision. He had been in denial, possibly.

The remorse was fleeting. It went as quickly as it came.

“I am justified,” he said loudly. “I am Ruler of all things. I am Creator. I am Absolute.”

He turned to his remaining son. “I will give you and yours one chance to leave this place,” he declared. “You will be spared any punishment if you leave and never look back. But know that if you do look back, there will be no mercy.”

Dean dismounted Impalus and came to stand beside Castiel. Castiel stood frozen with heartache.

“Cas,” he whispered into Castiel’s ear. “We have to move.”

“No, my – my brother – I have to get his body. He needs a – a burial,” Castiel sobbed.

“We can’t think about that now. Let’s go.”

Castiel allowed himself to be guided toward Impalus. Dean gave Castiel a lift onto the Pegasus. He walked beside Impalus, holding on to the reign and leading him.

When they had walked a ways, Dean stopped. Castiel blinked when he noticed the abrupt cease in moving.

“Why have we stopped?” he asked, his voice dull and low.

Dean took a deep breath before answering. “I’m not going with you, Cas. You have to go on with Impalus.”

“W-what?” Castiel replied, not believing what he was hearing.

“Go on! I will not turn my back on them and you must survive this! Go!” Dean swatted the rear haunches of his great Pegasus. When Castiel made to turn around and plead with Dean, he roared, “I TOLD YOU TO GO! YOU HAVE TO ESCAPE THIS PLACE!”

Hunched over and clutching his chest, Castiel was driven on by Impalus. Dean watched him leave before turning to face Sherwood. The last thing he saw was the smoldering ruins of a once beautiful town.

 

* * *

 

When the human town of Sherwood fell; when the only Royal Child left was Castiel; when the God of the Moon made the decision to turn his back on their Kingdom, the aftermath was horrendous.

The King of Kings was left with one remaining son. His anger could be felt through all the land. He had now lost two children to the wants of the mortals. Bitter and distrustful once more, he expelled every last God from his Kingdom. Every God but his own son, who he kept close to his vest.

They fell from the Heavens in hordes, some of them dying on impact as they crashed into the ground. Some of them fell more gently, as raindrops. Those that survived the Fall were doomed to walk the Earth as mortals. They would never again set eyes on their castles, their lands, their friends and family. They were destined to suffer.

Iblis sat alone, feeling empty and nowhere near as happy as he thought he would be. He had aided in wiping out an entire town, yes, but still his side was cold where his beloved should be.

The King, realizing that Iblis had aimed only for selfishness, damned him to Hell.

“You are never again to walk this Earth,” he commanded. “You should get accustomed to only seeing the fires of Hell day in and day out. You will perform your duties as the Lord of the Underworld faithfully. You will punish the souls as you see fit, but only the souls that I send to you.”

Iblis laughed mirthlessly. “I will corrupt every soul my jinn can touch,” he promised. “I will corrupt every faithless soul, and if my jinn are trusting in me enough, I will grant them the powers to corrupt even the most pious of servants.”

“I will fill Hell with you and every single soul like you,” the King boomed.

When the King of Kings decided to punish the God of the Moon with endless reincarnation, he knew it was more a punishment for his own son than it was for the Moon Lord. He knew that his son would suffer the most. And he knew that his son would need to suffer in order to atone for his sins.

“You will spend the rest of eternity searching the globe for your soul mate,” he commanded. “You will do this no matter how tired you become, no matter how much you want to resist, and despite any objections you may have. This is your punishment.”

And so, Castiel spent every century searching the world for his lost lover. He combed the countries, searching for any sign of his Dean. He sent his servants to look. He sent Bahamut to search the waters, certain that they would find him. He knew that no matter what, Dean would return.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: sexual stuffs~

Part III

  1. Life’s too short to even care at all




The sound of the waves on the shore had always been Dean’s favorite sound. The smell of the ocean was his favorite smell.

As a child, his mother had not allowed him to visit the beach. Not after the last camping trip, anyway. He was ten years old then. Eighteen years was a long time to exist without the waters beneath him. It felt like a part of him was missing.

He’d never been able to really explain why the ocean mattered to him so much. He had tried to psychoanalyze himself in his early 20s but he’d only been met with dead ends. He theorized once that he loved it because his mother forbade him from going near it. That train of thought hadn’t gotten far because his passion has been there long before the accident. His mother’s actions may have fueled the fire, but Dean Winchester knew he had always been certain of one thing: He belonged at sea.

  1. A dark world aches for a splash of the sun




“I don’t understand why you have to do this,” Mary Winchester said in a voice of concern.  
She pulled her shawl more tightly around her body. Dean stepped down onto the dock and smiled at her reassuringly. He placed his hands on her shoulders as he said gently, “Mom, it’s going to be fine. Aren’t I always fine?”

“You keep pushing your luck and one day you won’t be fine!”

“I promise you that I will be home before you know it.” He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her temple.

“You call me every chance you get! Please!”

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled, nodding his head and turning back toward his boat.  
  
The boat was, as he had lovingly called her, his “baby of the sea.” His first baby – a 67 Chevrolet Impala his dad had driven decades before – was going to sit in his mom’s driveway until he returned. He had to admit that as much room as the Impala took up in his heart, this boat wasn’t bad. She was a piece of art.

  
With a mahogany colored hull and black sails littered with streaks of azure, it was enough to make any other man’s heart swell with jealousy. Dean had known the minute he laid eyes on her that she was meant for him. He had taken his phone out of his pocket and snapped a dozen pictures from different angles. As a matter of fact, he had broken the news of his trip to his mother by showing her a picture of his sea baby.

“See that right there?” he had said, touching the phone’s screen with his finger and grinning despite the cold look she had been giving him. “Named her Jo. She’s gonna take me around the oceans of the world. She’s a real ketch.”

That, of course, was when several variations of “you’re going to get yourself killed!” had been shouted in his direction. Dean’s incredulous response had been “I won’t get myself killed, mom! ....Seriously, was that pun completely wasted just now?!”

He was only planning on being at sea for a year. He’d been prepping himself for the last three years; getting papers in order and brushing up on his knowledge of boating. He had even waited until his work contract was completed so he would have nothing tying him to the land.

Well…almost nothing. There was always his mother.

Dean was the only thing she had left. He had done everything in his power to make her proud. He had attended Stanford University, where his mother said he would excel. He had worked hard to become an Oceanographer. He had accepted a job with a prestigious lab. While he certainly had been able to study the waters and draw up reports, he was never free to do as he pleased. It was, after all, a job.

He knew she wouldn’t enjoy him being gone. He also knew she wouldn’t accept “I know what I’m doing because I can feel it in my bones” as sufficient preparation for such an arduous journey. Hence the years of prepping.

All things considered, her reaction hadn’t been that bad. She was even here to see him off. It was much more than he had hoped for.

After stepping onto the boat, Dean gave his mother – his worrying, loving, kind-hearted mother – the best smile he’d ever given anyone. As the boat started to drift away he called out, “Hey! I didn’t give you that champagne bottle so you could admire its beauty! You were supposed to christen my baby!”

Mary glanced down at her feet and, after she spied the forgotten bottle, she started to laugh.   
“I’m sorry!” was her choked response. “Will you ever forgive me?”

“Yeah yeah…Maybe when I’m old and grey! I love you to the moon and back, mom!”

 

* * *

 

The first night on open water was glorious. Dean could hardly believe any of it was real. He stood on the bow of his boat and cried out in ecstasy. When the boat was faced with a particularly harsh wave, he laughed.

This is what I was missing, he thought. Miles and miles of ocean before me, and the freedom to explore it leisurely.

 

On the 67th day of his journey, Dean stopped to enjoy his longest stay on land yet. He made port near a pleasant town called Tela, off the coast of Honduras. The people there were more than happy to direct him to the nearest bar that housed a phone he could use to make international calls.

When his call finally went through, he wasn’t surprised to find that his mother didn’t answer. He opted to leave her a message.

You know, you could at least attempt to pick up the phone when I call. As if you need any more beauty sleep. I keep tellin’ ya, you’re beautiful enough. I’m in Honduras at the moment. I just wanted to touch base. I got here kinda late so I haven’t been able to see much of this place yet. I haven’t gotten the creeps though so it can’t be bad. Pick up next time! I need to know if Missouri’s told you any good stories lately. I miss you. I’ll talk to you soon. To the moon and back, mom.

He placed the receiver back in its cradle and headed over to the bar. He took a moment to glance around at the other patrons. Each one smiled at him; he was surprised by how friendly they seemed. One girl in particular caught his eye. Paola, she said her name was. She shared some drinks with him and towards the end of the night even offered him a place to stay.

“It is probably much better for you than sleeping in that cramped boat,” she crooned softly into his ear.

Dean mulled it over. I could score tonight, he thought – and if he was reading the girl’s body language correctly, her hand caressing his thigh definitely confirmed his thought – but I can’t leave my first lady unattended.

And man, was this chick hot. Her eyes were an intense shade of blue. Her skin was a beautiful shade of light brown, and her hair wound down her back in raven colored magic-marker curls.

With great effort, Dean peeled the girl off him.

“Sorry sweetheart,” he sighed. “Can’t leave my baby hangin’. Maybe tomorrow.” The girl put on her best pout before heading in the opposite direction.

When Dean returned to his boat, he was immediately glad he made the decision to sleep there. The sound of the water splashing against the hull was reassuring. He slept soundly that night.

* * *

 

On the 68th day of his journey, Dean Winchester awoke to the sound of birds calling out to one another and the sun shining brightly. When he walked onto the deck of his baby, he started to smile. The smell of the water alone was enough to ease him.

He stretched his back languidly, sighing contentedly before he hopped off the boat. Being here was even better than he had dreamed.

For a moment, as he gazed out at the water, everything grew quiet. The waters rushed up the beach in gentle swells, touching him softly before dashing back to the rest of the sea. If he listened closely, he could swear the water was talking to him. Hands in his pockets and quiet in his heart, Dean Winchester was suddenly satisfied.

After gathering his thoughts, he made the decision to borrow a dingy and go snorkeling. The water was clear, the sky was the bluest it had ever been, and Dean smiled so much that his face began to hurt.

He spent hours watching the fish swim around him. He had panicked momentarily when the fin of a shark became visible in the distance. Sharks were not Dean’s cup of tea. Not since the camping trip. Seeing the shark was when he knew it was time to quit.

When he returned to shore, it was almost sundown. He decided it might be fun to try hitting up the bar again. If things didn’t pan out, he could always resume his sailing.

His decision was not a bad one. Paola was at the bar, sipping a drink and waiting for him. At least, he assumed she had been waiting for him. She certainly did wave at him as soon as he walked in. Dean was not about to turn down the same hot girl twice.

“Was your night in the boat splendid like you believed it would be?” she asked once he had taken a seat beside her. She was smiling and leaning close to him.

Yeah, thought Dean, she’s giving me all the signs.

“Being with you would have been more glamorous,” he responded.

“You think so?” Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Oh, absolutely.”

They talked a while longer, her hand occasionally snaking its way up to his neck, her fingers raking through his hair now and then. Dean’s own fingers gave her back a squeeze. She kept smiling and giggling at his jokes and his pick-up lines.

When she pressed against him and whispered in his ear, “Tonight will you join me at my home?” – he agreed easily.

Paola slipped away to the bathroom before they left. Dean sat at the bar, eyes scanning the room. They settled on a tall, muscular man in the corner with long red hair and bright eyes. His cheeks were marked with tattoos; Dean had never seen anyone with such tattoos before. The man locked eyes with him and shook his head in a firm ‘no’.

No?

No.

Paola had rejoined him suddenly. Dean took in the scent of her perfume as she pressed against him again. Once more the man shook his head, eyes never leaving Dean’s face. Dean stood slowly from his seat and, perplexed, turned to face Paola.

He grabbed her hand, a smile on his face, and his heart began to beat a little faster.

“Let’s get outta here,” he said. Something felt wrong. He could feel it building in the base of his spine.

They were heading out the front door when there was a loud explosion from the back of the bar. The force of it blew Dean and Paola forward. With ringing ears ( and a bitch of a headache), Dean tried sitting up and opening his eyes. It didn’t do much good. The first thing he noticed was that the place was full of smoke and debris.

The second thing Dean noticed was the ring of bright blue light emanating from the center of the bar. At the epicenter of the ring itself was the red-headed guy. He approached Dean slowly, wearing an irritated expression on his face.

“Did you not understand the shaking of my head?” he fumed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “You’re still as dense as ever.”

“T-This isn’t real,” Dean stuttered. “I’ve been knocked out and I’m dreaming…right?”

“You are free to console yourself with whatever you must. Be a good sport, though. Humor me and pretend this is not a dream.” The man approached Dean and held out his hand in a gesture of solidarity. Dean grasped his hand and the man pulled him up.

“I am Somerled,” he stated. “I am also…apologetic for what has transpired here. I did not foresee this happening this way.”

Dean looked around at the crumbling building. “You’re apologetic? You just **BLEW UP A FUCKING BUILDING!** ” He gestured wildly at the crumbling remains of the bar.

Somerled grimaced. “This was…unfortunate, I will concede. You forced my hand! I clearly indicated that you were not to leave with the harlot.”

“Who’s a harlot? Paola?” Dean’s eyes searched the area for her, but he saw no signs of her. But he was pretty sure she had landed next to him after the explosion…

“She has left this land by now,” Somerled said, cutting into Dean’s thoughts. “Undoubtedly to warn Iblis that I have intervened. He won’t be happy. He nearly had you.” The man gave a great sigh as he shut his eyes for a moment.

“You’re making zero sense, dude.” Dean stated, face deadpanning as he crossed his arms.

“I would prefer not to discuss it on land. I can take you somewhere safer, if you’re up for it.”

Dean’s facial expression abruptly changed to one of incredulity. “Are you shitting me? Just to reiterate: **you blew up the bar!** And you want me to go with you, so some guy named Iblis doesn’t find me? Sorry Russell, no dice.”

“Is ‘Russell’ some sort of 21st century curse word?”

“…He’s a hedgehog.”

Somerled furrowed his brow. “Are you equating me to a hedgehog?”

“As a matter of fact, dude, I am. You’ve got the hedgehog look going on.” Dean motioned with his hands around his head. When Somerled continued to look nonplussed, Dean sighed, “Your hair. It’s really pointy. I was trying to insult you.”

“Why would insulting my hair help your position?”

Dean’s frustration grew. He was ready to retort with another half-assed insult when he realized that it wouldn’t matter. This guy had just blown up a business. In a little Honduran town. Just to scare off a girl who wanted to fool around with him. He obviously wanted Dean for something that was, in his mind, important.

Out of things to say, Dean replied simply, “Just…forget it…what do you want? Why did you do this?”

Somerled stopped leaning on the nearby tree and straightened up to his full height. “We have waited so long for you to return. Castiel was growing restless.”

The name stirred something in Dean’s gut. “Castiel?” he repeated with uncertainty. The name felt strange on his tongue.

“Castiel,” Somerled nodded. “He has never gone so many centuries without seeing you around. He feared the worst.”

Dean wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he then said, “Okay. Let’s go.”

“A wise choice. You have made a noble decision.” Somerled put a hand over his heart and bowed. “I will see to it that you reach the castle safely.”

\---

Dean’s boat was left behind. Somerled drove a chariot led by four large white horses, and he insisted that it would get them there faster than a boat.

At several points during their journey, Dean began to feel disoriented and unsure if any of it was real. Three months prior, he had been an Oceanographer at one of the most respected facilities in North America. He had lived in an apartment with stacks of Led Zeppelin records for company. He had dinner with his mother every Thursday and he looked forward to the outrageous televangelists that came on Sunday morning TV.

Those were factual things. Those were ordinary things.

I didn’t ask for whatever is going on here, he thought bitterly. Mom did warn me not to go on this trip. Good going, Dean.

Abruptly, Somerled clasped Dean by the shoulder. “Everything will come to light once Castiel is able to explain. He has always been better at it than I.”

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, the castle Somerled had mentioned appeared to be…well…an ordinary castle surrounded by a stone wall. It sat on a cliff, surrounded by rocks and the ocean. It was incredibly large, but it looked abandoned.

“This is the place?” Dean asked skeptically.

“It is,” Somerled replied. “We keep it enchanted so that it appears empty. That way no mortals are likely to happen upon it. This area is particularly superstitious. They believe the old place to be haunted.” For a moment, Somerled’s grin grew dark. “They believe a great evil resides in these walls.”

After Somerled had secured his horses in the nearby forest, he led Dean to a gate in the wall. Once he was through to the castle’s courtyard, Dean could hardly believe his eyes.

There were trees laden with fruits, bright flowers that seemed to sparkle, and the grass was the deepest shade of green that Dean had ever seen. He stopped walking to take it all in. Somerled looked at him in amusement.

“Honestly,” he remarked, “one would think you had never been on castle grounds before.”

Dean scowled. “I haven’t.”

Somerled chuckled. “If you choose to believe so, that is your right, I suppose.” He proceeded to the castle doors then paused. When he turned to look at Dean expectantly, Dean rolled his eyes and followed suit.

Somerled threw the doors open and headed down the nearest hall. Dean had to move brusquely to keep up with the mysterious hedgehog.

As they moved further down the hall, Dean could hear angry voices.

“My Lord, I would never dare to disobey you!” the first voice said. “I am only voicing my concerns. My only loyalty is to you.”

“If your loyalty is to me, then how do you dare to stand there and say such things?” demanded the second voice.

“I worry for you! You have wasted – wasted – so many centuries chasing after him to atone for what you believe you did wrong. He could go through many life cycles and never even remember you. Yet you cling to him so desperately!”

The sound of something being thrown against a wall precluded the second voice bellowing, “I cling to him as only a soul mate would! I do not cling to him out of some absurd sense of barrenness! He would have done the same for me. And I would not have to do it had I not made mistakes. It is my duty to return his soul to him!”

“…You are not obligated to do this anymore. It is okay to let him alone.”

Somerled wasted no time in making their presence known. He charged through the door to their right and led Dean into the room where the voices were coming from.

“My Lord, I have found him,” he announced.

Inside the room were two men: one was ordinary looking enough, but the other one…he was dressed in a dark vest and slacks, which were also normal enough, but his skin… It was bright blue and when he turned to look at them, Dean’s breath caught in his chest. The man had bright blue eyes to match his skin. And the way they stared at Dean…they were so familiar. It was as if they had done this a thousand times.

“Dean,” the man said, his voice breaking. He made to move toward Dean, hand extended as if he we going to touch him – but at the last second, he stopped. He faltered, hand falling to rest at his side, a sad look forming in his eyes.

“I know you, don’t I?” Dean asked.

“We were…acquainted, yes. You know me.”

“If I know you, why don’t I know your name?”

The man smiled patiently. “You know my name. That’s the one thing I can always count on. You never truly forget it.”

Dean looked at the man wearily. There was definitely something about him…It was there, in the back of his mind, but it was fleeting. Every time he got close to it, it slipped through his fingers.

The man began to laugh.

“What’s so damn funny, Cas?” Dean demanded. The name slipped so easily out of his mouth, he almost didn’t notice that he had said it at all. There it was again – something, in the back of his mind, fleeting – it was like being in a dream. He could hear himself panting out that name. Breathless, lustful, heady: “Cas.”

“There you are. I am Castiel,” the man said, nodding his head. “God of the Seas.”

Dean’s eyes grew wide. A God? Gods were unheard of these days. No one had seen any sort of God since the 1800s. It was rumored that now and then reincarnated Gods would appear; that was the closest they’d ever gotten to seeing one.

“You’re a…a God?” Dean asked skeptically. Castiel nodded.

“I can see the disbelief on your face,” he said. “I’m sure it must be strange to hear me state it so plainly. I am the only one left on this planet. My Father resides in Heaven. The others have left.”

“You’re all alone?”

“Well…I do have two loyal friends. They seem to have the misfortune of being stuck with me for eternity.”

Somerled bowed his head somberly and said, “It has never been a misfortune, King of Oceans. It has only been an honor.”

Castiel smiled at his friend. “And this,” he said, indicating the steam punk guy beside him, “is Samandriel.”

Samandriel nodded stiffly at him.

Somerled said, “Perhaps we should leave the two of you to speak with one another. Samandriel let us depart to the kitchen. We can have a go at those pancakes you keep talking about.”

Castiel closed the door after his servants left. He turned to Dean and motioned for him to sit down.

“I have not seen you in many centuries,” he said as he sat down next to Dean.

“Your friend said the same thing,” Dean replied. “How do we know each other?”

“We were lovers once.” Castiel said it simply, without reserve. Dean wasn’t sure how to respond. “My lover’s soul is reincarnated every century. I have made it my mission to find him and restore his soul fully to him. Inside of you is part of his soul. You are, partially, the one I have been searching for. When I reunite you with the rest of your soul, you will be complete.”

“I feel pretty complete right now.”

“You usually do. You have, most often, led a normal life. The common factor in every life is that you are always searching for a way to the ocean. I would wager that in this life, in this day and age, you work closely by the ocean.”

“How did you know that?”

“It’s just a guess.” Castiel’s eyes sparkled in bemusement. “You once spent an entire lifetime searching for Oceanus.”

“Oceanus…the Titan?”

“Yes. Older civilizations believed that Oceanus was a Titan that was the embodiment of the ocean’s power. They weren’t entirely wrong.”

Dean sat quietly, trying to let it all sink in.

“You said you’re the only God left,” he said after some time. “What did you mean when you said the rest left? How does a God just…leave?”

For the first time since their meeting, Castiel began to look uncomfortable. “It’s an unpleasant process.”

When Castiel did not explain further, Dean took it as a cue to let the matter drop for the time being. Instead, he went on to ask, “How long has your -- have I been stuck in a cycle of reincarnation? Am I going to be this way forever?”

“It has been far too long,” Castiel replied sadly. “I have existed even longer than you. “

Even longer? Dean wondered. How old was this guy?

“I take it you’re pretty old then. You look good for an old man.”

Castiel laughed. “You’re taking this well,” he said thoughtfully.

“Seeing is believing, right? I’m sitting in a castle by the sea. A few hours ago, I was at a bar. If I hadn’t been there to see it, I might not believe it. But we’re sitting here. It’s real, right?”

“I certainly hope so.”

\---

In the kitchen, Samandriel sat on the counter, watching Somerled procure a batch of pancakes. He sat with his arms crossed and a pout on his face.

“Oh come now,” Somerled said suddenly, back to Samandriel. “Stop your pouting. Why do you object so strongly to his happiness?”

“Is that what you perceive me to be? An objector to his happiness?”

Somerled shrugged as he flipped the pancakes. “I am only noting that your behavior is peculiar. You’ve never had an issue with it before.”

Samandriel said nothing. He did not trust Somerled. Had not trusted him in a long time. He had started to wonder if he ever should have.

Instead of voicing any of these thoughts, Samandriel pursed his lips. He was certain there was a reason they had been unable to find Dean’s soul over the last several centuries. His soul had to have been held somewhere. If Castiel were no so consumed with grief, Samandriel was certain he would also have found it most curious.

He would have to bring it to Dean’s attention. This was not their Dean – not fully – but it was worth an attempt.

\---

“Explain something to me,” Dean said. “Where is my soul now?”

“In Purgatory. The God of Hell carries the charge of ferrying your soul back to this world when I call upon it.”

“And how do you go about calling upon it?”

“There is a ritual we perform. It calls upon your lost soul...beckons it, you could say. The underworld ruler is forced to bring your soul to the brinks of the area where the ritual is being performed. He isn’t allowed on this plane so he cannot stay long. He delivers the soul to the area then departs.”

“Why isn’t he allowed here?”

Castiel got that uncomfortable look on his face again. It was mixed with a little pain, as though it hurt him to remember. “When my Father expelled the remaining Gods from his Kingdom, he damned Iblis to Hell. Iblis vowed to corrupt every human that crossed his path, in retaliation.  He is sometimes permitted to move freely throughout the lower realms but he is never allowed here. It is his punishment.”

“Expelled? Why were the Gods expelled?”

“Because of you. Because of us.” Castiel was suddenly unable to look at him. Instead he gazed at the ground.

Dean wanted to know more. Wanted to ask why it made Castiel look so sad. But there was a sudden knock at the door.

“My Lord,” said Samandriel through the door. “Somerled requests your counsel. He wishes to go over the ritual materials.”

“Yes, of course,” Castiel called back. He pulled himself away from Dean’s side and headed to the door. “Feel free to keep Dean company,” he said to Samandriel as he left the room. Samandriel took Castiel’s abandoned seat.

The two men stared at one another for a while before Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. He got the distinct feeling that this one was not a fan of his.

Samandriel had intense eyes that seemed to see through him. It made Dean feel more than a little exposed.

“Dude, did I do something to rub you the wrong way?” he demanded to know. “You’re giving me mega stink eyes.”

Samandriel sat back in his chair and observed Dean. “I wish to speak to you about something of a personal nature,” he said after a while.

“Okay…go for it.”

Once more, Samandriel took a moment before saying anything. He seemed to be considering his words very carefully.

“There is a taxing ritual that my Lord must perform in order to restore you to your former glory,” he said. “I have never before had any reason to doubt it. It was a punishment bestowed upon him by his Father. We do not question it. However, this time I find certain things…quite intriguing.”

“Such as?”

“As they have already said to you, you were lost for quite some time. I find that most peculiar. I find it peculiar because Iblis is the one charged with ensuring souls go where they need to go. So why was yours lost for so long?”

“I get the feeling you think it was done menacingly.”

“Correct.” Samandriel tapped his fingers against his knee nervously. “But…I cannot tell Castiel that. You may have heard us arguing as you got here. He thinks I am undermining his authority. I am only worried about him. I fear that he cannot see the situation’s suspicious circumstance because he is so happy to have you back.”

“What would you like me to do?”

“I would like your assistance in researching an alternative ritual. We have used the same one for many years. But I fear it may be tainted now.”

Samandriel’s eyes were shining with fierce intent. Dean nodded his head slowly.

“Sure thing,” he said. “Let me know whenever you need me. Anything to avoid hurting myself, right?”

With a secret smile on his face, Samandriel took his leave.

\---

As the days progressed, Dean felt more and more certain that Castiel was someone who knew him to the depths of his being. He knew everything there was to know.

The only thing about Castiel that Dean found himself unwilling to go near was his pet, Bahamut.

Bahamut was a shark one thousand feet in length. He was massive, a missile made of muscle and teeth. His lilac skin was marred with red scars and ritualistic markings. Castiel had said that the reasons for the markings were so that no innocent people would happen upon him. The markings guided him in his adventures so that he steered clear of mortals.

When Castiel asked why Dean was so afraid of Bahamut, Dean had responded gruffly, “’M not afraid. I just…I don’t trust sharks, okay?”

“You have never feared Bahamut before.”

“Yeah well, I bet my family had never been in a camping accident before either.” When Castiel looked confused, Dean continued. “When I was ten years old, my dad took my brother and me fishing. Sammy…he loved to go fishin’. We’d ride out in our little dingy every chance we got.”

Dean’s eyes became bright as he went on. “We took our aunt Ellen with us and our cousin Jo. She was the best. Always gave Sammy and me a run for our money. Anyway, uh…the last day of our trip, we wanted to get in one more fishing expedition. We were on the boat when something – something flipped us over.”

“Some thing?”

“Yeah, well, the cops said it was a miscalculation. An error in judgment. Said my old man didn’t do a good enough job of keeping us away from some rocks that sent us flying upside down. But when I was in the water…I swear I saw a shark out there.” As Dean admitted it, his face began to redden. “I know it’s dumb. It’s just the exaggerated memories of a little boy but…it always stuck with me.”

Castiel placed a hand reassuringly on Dean’s shoulder. “Was everyone alright?” he asked.

Dean shook his head. “Nah. I was the only one who made it. Everyone else…they were trapped under the boat. But the current scooped me up. I was spared.”

His tone became bitter, his expression grew hard. Castiel realized he was no longer accustomed to how Dean needed to be comforted. He noted the way Dean’s arms were crossed, protectively.

After pushing his uncertainty aside, he lunged forward and pulled Dean into an embrace. He found that Dean did not fight him. Instead, Dean sighed and rested his head against Castiel’s shoulder.

They stood that way for a long time, neither one wanting to break it up.

As Castiel took in the feel of his lost lover’s body, it occurred to him that this life cycle had certainly been as rough as ever. But when he walked with Dean later, and Dean recounted the stories of how exquisite his mother was, Castiel discovered one marvelous detail about Dean’s life this time around: Finally, after centuries, he was able to know the loving touch of a mother’s hand all his life.

\---

The more Dean looked into the ritual, the more uneasy he became. Samandriel was definitely onto something. And the more he learned about the Gods, the happier he was that they were leaving Castiel out of this for the time being. Dean had started to mention how uncomfortable he was with the ritual a few days prior, but Castiel had seem preoccupied. Dean supposed it was for the best since this seemed to be sketchy research.

These Gods were ruthless. And if the stories were true, Castiel was as ruthless as the rest. He served his Ruler’s purpose without question. He had spent several centuries as the smiting dog, apparently. (Smiting Dog being a nickname Dean had come up with on his own, thank you very much.) Rule breaking was taken seriously. He didn’t want to imagine what would happen to Cas if anyone found out the Sea God was trying to find an out of the ordinary way to bring Dean’s soul back.

Now and then Dean would come across a historical account that stirred something in his memory. He could see fleeting images or catch phantom scents, but he couldn’t grasp onto it long enough to really figure it out. He grew so frustrated that he stopped trying altogether and left the book worming to Samandriel.

And Samandriel was nothing if not a fountain of reassurance.

“I’m sure you find this frustrating but I have learned a lot,” he said one day. “I was never certain before that you were still…you. But when I see your eyes scrunched in concentration, I can tell that it really does stir up something for you. It must be maddening.”

“Well gee, thanks pal.”

\---

It was during breakfast one morning that Somerled said to Castiel, as he stuffed a forkful of egg into his mouth, “My Lord, does it strike you as odd that Samandriel and Dean are spending an awful lot of time together?”

“Of course not,” was Castiel’s response. “If Samandriel can help drudge up any memories, all the better.”

“Yes, of course,” Somerled assented. He gave his fork a long lick before continuing. “It’s just…I thought I heard Samandriel advising our reincarnated Lord on the best way to stall for more time. It sounded as though he was looking to postpone the bringing back of Dean’s soul.”

Castiel stood up suddenly, sending his plate flying across the table. “He said what?”

“It was only a snippet of conversation. It is entirely possible that I misunderstood Samandriel’s intentions.”

Castiel stalked out of the dining room. He intended to find out what Samandriel’s intentions were.

  
  


Samandriel resided in the highest room in the castle. It was dark and quiet in there, with a big window that he liked to sit in front of. He would watch the waters in the distance and, sometimes, he would even push the window open so he could hear the crash of the waves against the rocks.

He was sitting on his window ledge when he heard rapidly approaching footsteps. He stowed away the book he had been reading. Titled Quid Pro Soul, it was full of detailed accounts on how soul trading worked. He was so close to finding out where Dean’s soul had been. So close.

The last entry he had been reading had said:  
 _To guarantee that a soul be hidden, something must first be given. Quid Pro Quo. Those of the Underworld are happy to make deals for the right price. Have you offered a high enough price?_

There was a knock at the door as Samandriel resumed his seat by the window.

“You may come in,” he shouted across the room. When the door opened, he was surprised to find that Castiel entered.

“If I may, Samandriel, I wish to have a word with you.”

“Yes, my Lord. Anything you wish.”

Castiel stood in front of him, arms folded, his legs stiff and straight. He sighed, “Are you trying to deter Dean from going forth with returning his soul to his body?”

“Of course not!” Samandriel responded, wounded. “I’m not trying to deter him from doing it altogether. I only think we should find another way of doing it.”

“Why? Why would you do that?”

With a great sigh, Samandriel stated, “You should talk to Dean. If I tell you, you will not listen to me. You think I harbor ill feelings towards him, which is entirely untrue. There is no other way to convince you.”

Castiel felt a pang of shame when he heard Samandriel say that he knew Castiel doubted him. It was only recently that he thought perhaps Samandriel’s intentions were not the most pure. His sudden distaste for restoring Dean’s soul was new. It had never been mentioned before. Castiel didn’t understand where Samandriel’s uncertainty came from.

With uncertainty clouding his own heart, he left Samandriel’s room quietly.

 

\---

 

When Castiel found Dean in the library, he was not pleased.

 

“Samandriel says you do not wish to go forth with the ritual,” he stated, catching Dean off guard. “Why would you not just tell me so?”

 

“I tried telling you!” Dean responded defensively. He stood and set down the book he had been flipping through. “If you’ll recall correctly, you brushed me off.”

 

With a defeated look in his eyes, Castiel made to exit the library.

 

"Cas don't go," Dean pleaded, grabbing his companion by the wrist.

 

Castiel stopped walking and turned around to face him. The pain Dean saw in his eyes was enough to tear him apart.

 

"I am unsure of how I am meant to proceed," the God confessed, his voice low. "You have never before denied me the ritual. You were always certain this was best… You are not the one that I remember. Perhaps I...I made a mistake. You are not mine."

 

Dean could not place the emotion those words made him feel. It felt as though the air was being squeezed from his lungs. Something - some force he could not name - propelled him forward.

 

He placed his hands firmly around Castiel's face and leaned into him. He could feel Castiel falter; saw the momentary hole in his armor.

 

"Cas, you gotta believe me. I'm beggin' you. I can feel it. I belong here, with you. I can't remember all of it yet but I can feel it. This – us – it's real. But this ritual isn't right. Something is off about it."

 

"What, Dean? What is 'off' about it?"

 

Dean shook his head. "I don't know yet. Gimme some time. I'll find out. We can find an alternative. But everything about this is shady. My soul being gone for all those years? You have to admit, it’s weird."

 

"Let me assist you and --"

 

"No!" Castiel's eyes widened with alarm. Dean sighed and collected himself. "Look what they did to me as punishment. I can't let you go poking around and wind up this way, too. We...we could end up --"

 

"-- Apart for the rest of eternity."

 

"Yeah. And something tells me I wouldn't be able to handle that. Not now, probably not ever."

 

Castiel pushed himself harder against Dean. He ran the tip of one finger along the curves of Dean's lips.

 

"It has been so long since I was this close to you," he whispered. He rested his forehead against Dean's and closed his eyes. "I have longed for it. Living without you has been torture."

 

"Never again, Cas." Dean caught Castiel's bottom lip between his own and sucked on it gently. When Castiel kissed him back, it was almost too much. In that kiss, he could taste every ounce of power that ran through Castiel's body. It was not merely the meeting of two mouths. It was a way of sharing the symphonies in their souls, he realized. It was more than anything he had ever known before.

 

 _If this is something I knew before, how could I have forgotten what this was like?_ \-- he thought. It was like tasting the sea; as though he were grasping the waters in his hand. As Dean ran one hand down Castiel's backside, he realized he was, in fact, holding the very power of the waters between his fingers.

 

Dean stopped to admire the creature he had pinned to the wall. Stopped to take in the state of his partner. Castiel's face was delightfully flushed; his lips were parted and a little swollen. When Dean rolled his hips against Castiel’s, he was rewarded with a delicious moan from the God. Castiel began to squirm.

 

"Dean," he begged, his voice ragged, "please. I have waited so patiently for you. Please."

 

For a moment, Dean was taken aback. Castiel trusted him; adored him; was begging him for mercy. He didn't know what to do. He didn't think he had done anything to deserve this. He couldn't even remember which flowers Castiel loved to watch blossom (. Certainly he didn't deserve to have a God beg him for anything.

 

"Cas, I - I'm sorry," he whispered.

 

"I know. You always are. And I will always forgive you."

 

When Castiel began to plant kisses along Dean's neck, the eldest Winchester son gripped his shoulder tightly. He guided them to the nearby couch, where they fell in a messy pile of limbs.

Castiel slid his hands down and unbuckled Dean’s jeans. Dean made quick work of kicking the jeans off and in turn began to strip Castiel of his own clothes. Dean took it all in – the skin bared for him, the black tattoos that swirled up his body, the thick cock that was swollen and aching to be touched.

Dean took his time licking slow strips up and down the shaft, eliciting low whimpers from Castiel. He kept Castiel’s hips steady as he continued to give teasing licks.

When Dean finally slid into Castiel’s tight, wet hole, Castiel let out a gasp of relief.

“You feel…as good as I remember,” he panted, locking his legs around Dean’s waist. As Dean slammed into him with abandon, Castiel was almost pushed to tears.

He had waited so long – so very long – to feel this close to his lover again. He had spent so many years alone, with only his own hand for comfort. Even now, this coupling was rushed – it was frantic even – but it was what Castiel hoped it would be.

 

* * *

 

  1. Sit down, it’s just a talk




In the dead of the night, after finally reaching the peak of his research, Samandriel was pacing throughout the courtyard, his hands fidgeting, his eyes bouncing around rapidly. He did not have long. At any moment, his assailant was bound to return. He had barely survived long enough to make it back to the castle; his time was running out.

“I must warn my Lord,” he whispered to himself as he began scribing on the ground. His Lord needed only to check the ground and he would undoubtedly see his warning. He had only gotten to the first word when a hand clamped down on the back of his neck.

This was it.

“What is that you’re writing, foolish lamb?” a deep voice asked. “Did you think you would warn everyone else of his return?”

Samandriel refused to say anything. He turned to face his enemy with a dagger in his hand. His mouth opened in a scream of defiance as he threw all of his weight into his attack.

His enemy laughed and, catching him around the waist, plunged a knife into his chest. Samandriel howled with disbelief.

Not like this. This is not the end. I have to warn them.

But his resistance proved nothing. He was tossed across the yard carelessly. His blood pooled underneath him. His eyes lost any shine of life. This was not how he had ever seen things ending. He alone knew the truth. He alone knew the deviousness behind the ritual. And he would never get the chance to tell his most treasured friend.

 

\---

From inside the castle, Castiel and Dean heard a loud WHOOSH of an explosion. The walls of the castle shook so hard that the decorations fell down.

Castiel rushed through the doors of the castle. There had never been an attack on his castle before. Thousands of years and no one had ever dared to do so.

What met Castiel’s eyes was not a sight he was prepared for. In the corner of the yard lay Samandriel, crumpled and a shell of who he once was. His eyes, open and blank, stared at nothing. Near the wall of the castle lay Somerled, bleeding and gasping for breath.

Castiel ran to Samandriel while Dean rushed to Somerled’s side.

My most faithful. Castiel gathered Samandriel up in his arms and, as he sank to his knees, he began to weep openly. My most faithful. My most trusted.

I am so sorry, my friend. I am so sorry.

\---

  
  
  
  


When Castiel was a small child, his Father had created a friend for him. Specifically for him!

“I would have you call him Samandriel,” his Father commanded. Castiel had nodded, eagerly accepting any name. He was just happy to have a friend outside of his siblings.

Samandriel had never lied to him. He had never shown anything but trustworthiness. He had never been anything but loyal to his King and his Lord. He was happy to accept any teachings that Castiel had to offer. Yet Castiel had doubted him. And now, with his friend cradled in his arms, he felt guilt running through his body, hot and thick.

Samandriel had stuck by Castiel’s side as they searched endlessly for Dean. He had never complained. He had never fought against it. He had only encouraged Castiel and reminded him occasionally of the harsh truth: Dean was doomed to live this way for all of eternity.

Still, Samandriel gave his Lord hope. Hope that they might one day find a way to end this.

_My most faithful._   
  
  


\---

 

Somerled looked at Dean with glassy eyes. “Someone was here,” he said hoarsely. “He was…attacking Samandriel when I happened upon them…when he tried to run, I chased after him. I’m sorry for my uselessness. I could not catch him.”

Dean shook his head and said, “Don’t apologize, Somerled. You did all that you could. Here, let me help you.” He grabbed Somerled’s upper arms and pulled him up. Gingerly, trying to avoid the bleeding gashes on Somerled’s side, Dean wrapped an arm around his waist. He guided him back to the front room of the castle and helped him to lie down on a couch.

Elsewhere, Castiel continued to cradle Samandriel in his arms.  His tears fell hard and fast, landing on Samandriel’s body. With all the strength he could pull forth, he lifted his loyal friend and carried him through the court yard, beyond the castle gates.

He walked until he reached the water’s edge.

“You are going home,” he whispered into Samandriel’s hair. Pulling his friend’s body closer to his, he waded into the water. “It’s going to be alright, my dearest friend. You are safe now. You are home.”

He released Samandriel from his grip. He let the waters wash over him fully for a moment. Guided currents swept up to grab Samandriel’s limp form. They pulled him under, further and further, until Castiel could see him no more. He could only sense his friend’s presence in the large body of water.

Samandriel had gone home, to rest amongst his Lord’s vast reaches.

  
  
  
  


When Castiel returned to the castle, he found Dean bandaging Somerled’s wounds.

“Tell me what happened,” he demanded. Somerled grimaced and sat up a little straighter.

“I’m not entirely certain what happened,” was his response. “I was going to look for Samandriel. I needed to go over the materials. You know him, he – he always wants to double check. And I found him bowled over, with someone attacking him. I gave chase but…I’m sorry. I failed to apprehend the assailant.”

Castiel’s eyes steeled over. Whoever it was must surely have been determined to stop the ritual. He could only imagine that it was one of the jinn. This meant his protection sigils were not enough. He needed to perform the ritual as soon as possible.

 

* * *

 

  1. This is the end




Dean, at first, did not want to mention to Castiel that he and Samandriel had stumbled upon an alternate ritual. It was one that Somerled had also thought would be most useful. For some reason, this made Samandriel want to try another one. But Dean had insisted they stick with the first alternative.

When he did mention it to Castiel, Castiel was ready immediately to do it. He asked Somerled what materials he would need and set about finding them.

It was hard to get a hold of Castiel the day before the ritual. But Dean found the time.

“Cas,” he said as he watched Castiel double-checking everything. “Hey.”

“Yes, Dean?” Castiel continued to look through everything. Dean placed his hand in the middle of the pile, forcing Castiel to tear his eyes away from it.

“I just need to tell you…in case anything happens…as this Dean – as me – I cherish you. I’m not sure what it’s going to be like once I get the rest of my soul back – “

“—it’s going to be fine –”

“—but in case it’s not. Just listen, okay? Thanks for…dragging me here.”

“I will always be here to bring you back,” Castiel said, his voice breaking a little.

Dean leaned forward and planted a kiss on his forehead. Castiel brought his arms up to rest around Dean’s body.

As Dean enjoyed his moment of comfort, he found himself thinking, I love you endlessly. Whatever part of my soul is in me, it knows. I love you.

\---

The court yard was the only place Castiel trusted to do the ritual. Dean watched him as he patiently drew the sigils needed to perform such a large dose of magic. He painted the sigils onto the stone ground. He even drew sigils on his own body. He was certain of himself; it showed in his actions. The way he moved so fluidly, without stopping.

When it was time, Dean stepped into the finished circle.

As the ritual's magic began to set in, the circle surrounding him began to glow. Its light was bright. It was almost painful to look at. Somerled stared on, a small smile on his face. Dean stood in the center of the circle, wearing a look of unease.

 

At Somerled's suggestion, they had opted to perform the ritual a little differently. Usually the receiver of the soul did not stand in the circle. An item of his was usable, yes, but his entire body being in there was unheard of. But it seemed to be the only way.

 

As Castiel gazed at his friend, he felt a small pang of guilt. He had never intended for anyone to be so badly injured while serving under him. He was tired of seeing those closest to him come to harm's way.

 

The circle abruptly began to darken as wind came rushing past them. The light changed; from bright and white to dark and overwhelming. It was, simply put, a swallowing darkness. Dean was no longer visible.

 

Castiel hollered over the howl of the winds, "Why is the circle darkening so much?"

 

Somerled began to laugh hysterically. Castiel, confused, turned to face him fully. "Why are you laughing?"

 

"You have grown foolish in your old age," he replied, still laughing.

 

"Explain yourself."

 

"It can't do any harm, I guess. There is no way you can stop the ritual now."

 

"Why would I need to stop the ritual?"

 

"Because we are going to bring Iblis to this world."

Castiel's blood ran cold in his veins. That was impossible. Iblis had been forbidden from ever entering this realm again. He was chained to Hell. He was able to move through this world only through his minions, who were more than happy to do his bidding.  
  


"You know as well as I that such a thing is impossible," Castiel growled.  
  


"Oh, I promise you, it is quite possible. I put a lot of work into it. It's possible only if a portal is opened by one of Royal blood. You are the only Royal one left in this realm."

 

Castiel's mind was reeling. His breaths were coming in shallow waves.

 

"I don't understand," he said desperately. "Why would you do this?"

 

"Hundreds of years ago, your selfish family drove out the only Goddess kind enough to love her subjects faithfully," Somerled hissed, stepping next to Castiel and shoving him hard. "You punished her for something that should never have been considered wrong. Then **you** ruined everything so badly that Iblis was thrown into Hell, for eternity. I need him to bring her back."

 

"So you think...do you think this is what she would have wanted?" Castiel's eyes began to brim with tears as everything sank in. "You do not recall my sister's memory correctly. She was never so cruel that she would have wished for this. Not if it meant bringing into this world the only God who, in the end, wanted nothing more than to destroy humanity!"

 

"If I have to bring him back, and grovel at his feet in order to gain his aid in bringing her back, I will do it!" Somerled shouted. "The ritual is already begun. There is no going back!"

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Inside the circle, Dean was surrounded by a black wall of nothingness. It was like being inside a void.

 

Despite how much he wanted to call out, see if Cas was still there, he balled his hands into fists and stayed quiet. But he was certain he could hear whispers swirling around him.

  
  


_“…It’s Dean. My name is Dean.”_   
_“Dean. I think I can manage that. Dean.”_

_“He is yours to command if you can get him to submit to you.”_   
_“If I can get him to submit?”_   
_“Yes, if.”_

_“I, uh…I need you to know that I’m into you. I don’t know if I’m into this Moon God thing but…I’m into you.”_

_“I will go to this ceremony naked.”_   
_“That is entirely unnecessary. As if the crowd of gathered Gods and Goddesses needs to see your naked form. Be considerate.”_   
_“You’ve never complained about my naked form.”_   
_“I was protecting your heart from being wounded. Now you know my true feelings on the matter.”_

Memories – hundreds of them – came flooding back to him. It was overwhelming. It almost drove him to his knees.

_“When you strip away my vessel, I am but waves upon the shore.”_

It hurt him to think of it all. It hurt him to remember. He remembered choosing to turn away from Castiel. He remembered crying, “Go on! I will not turn my back on them and you must survive this! Go!”

He remembered giving his lover no other option. And he remembered the first time they were reunited. He remembered having spent that entire life cycle searching for Oceanus. He had led his armies into war, waging battle after battle with the certainty that he must set eyes on Oceanus before he died.

He remembered being a poor painter, barely able to make ends meet. He remembered sitting by the giant river, painting nothing but the moon’s reflection on the surface of the water. Because the moon’s reflection on the water made him feel at peace. It made him feel whole. Because the moon’s reflection there was the closest he could get to Castiel.

He remembered the feeling of being whole each and every time he was able to see Castiel again. And he remembered the burden of his choices.

He was the Moon.

 

* * *

  
  
  


In the Ocean that crashed upon the shores beyond the castle walls, there was a mighty roar. It sent quakes throughout the land. Castiel could hardly believe his eyes.

Iblis, towering over them on the cliff and nearly fully fleshed, was rising from the ocean. His grey skin was hanging off his bones in loose slabs. Black bugs fell off his body in sheets. He let out another roar of anger. Pulling through to this world was not as easy as he seemed to have thought it was going to be.

At the sight of the bugs, Castiel became frozen. His blood pumped through his veins like ice. It seemed that it had only been the day before when he felt those bugs on his own skin. It was the sinister laugh of Somerled that shook him from his state.

Castiel’s dark markings on his shoulders began to glow as he summoned his favorite pet.

Bahamut, I command you to destroy that monster.

Bahamut came flying out of the water and slammed into the giant fleshling. His teeth, as hard as diamonds, sank into the exposed bone of Iblis’ form. There was another mighty quake as Iblis flung his arm out, trying to shake loose the giant sea creature.

As his pet laid into Iblis, Castiel turned his attention back to Somerled, who grew serious as the Sea God spoke. “All this time…you were trying to bring Iblis back?”

Somerled nodded. “This is the ending that I have been waiting for,” he said somberly. “This is how I always dreamed it would be. Do you know how tiresome it was to keep you running in circles, while we held his soul elsewhere? We had to stall for more time. I needed to find a way to get Iblis into this world first.”

“Iblis will not remain in this world for long.”

“You seem so certain. It is almost endearing.” Somerled wore a wicked grin on his face, his lips pulled back far too tight over his teeth. “This world is his now. Perhaps he will show mercy and devour it in a timely manner, much as I did with Samandriel.”  
  


 

 

Dean could feel power humming in his body. The darkness around him was starting to disperse. He could see Castiel and Somerled in the distance. Then he heard the roars of Iblis as Bahamut crashed into him once more.

  
  
  
  


“You – you murdered Samandriel?” Castiel said, stunned.

Somerled gave an ecstatic nod. He brought his hands together in an excited clap. “I wish I could tell you that I regret my actions. However, I’ve spent far too long waiting for the right opportunities. I was not going to let him stand in my way. He was far too meddlesome.”

“Too meddlesome? Ah…he must have been onto you.”

Somerled began to pace. “He got too close for comfort. I thought I had thrown out that ridiculous old Quid Pro Souls novel. He didn’t know it was me, of course, until he pieced it together. I had to give away something very valuable to me in order to convince Iblis to hide Dean’s soul for so long.”

Suddenly, Castiel understood. “Your shield. The one Anna ordered to be made only for you. With the runes on it…I thought it was destroyed after the Fall.”

“That was what I needed you to think. I was reluctant to give it when Iblis asked for it but…sacrifices must be made.” Somerled stopped pacing and stood close to Castiel.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he gushed. “A villager was the one that told Iblis about your brother and Dean going to the human village. The torture had nothing to do with extracting information from you. It was only so your Father could test you. I suppose he wanted to see if you were a loyal son.”

Castiel felt as though he had been thrown down a hole. It had all been a lie…everything…his years of atonement…his guilt over giving out information in the throes of terror…all of it. A lie.

The heartbreak turned to hot rage.

“You think to tell me these things because you must be certain I am going to perish before this day is over,” he said.

“Oh yes. Iblis is going to wipe the planet clean.”

Suddenly Somerled was thrown backward in a flash of bright light. “Iblis is not a remedy,” Dean said from behind Castiel. “He is the plague.” Castiel whirled around and spotted Dean approaching from the ritual circle.

“Dean?” Castiel whispered. Dean -- in his entirety-- was standing before him once more.

He beamed, warm and bright as he came closer. “Yeah Cas. It’s me.” Castiel rushed towards him, cupping his face tenderly.

“I missed you so,” he stated.

“I know you did. I’m sorry I went away for so long.”

“And I am sorry as well.” Before Dean could ask what he meant, Castiel shoved Dean back. He moved quickly to stand in the circle that the ritual had used only moments before.

Withdrawing the short dagger he always carried with him, Castiel plunged the weapon into his torso. With every ounce of strength he had, he reached into the wound with his fingers and pulled out a small glowing orb.

No, Somerled, he thought. This is how it ends.

Removing ones grace was not pleasant. It almost always required a long and intense ritual, where many sacrifices were made. But for the Royal Gods, it was relatively simple: he needed only to remove it and offer it to the Ladies of the In-Between.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part IV.**   
  


The Ladies of the In-Between were the deciders of Fate. They were given a time and day for each person’s largest decisions. They were charged with making sure each large decision was completed.

As Castiel stepped into the circle that was still pulsing with energy, they knew his time had come. They rushed upward and pulled him down into their realm, surrounding him with darkness.

They were not pleasant to look at. They were ancient beings, with wrinkled black skin and tattered dresses that fell to the floor. When they spoke, they did so in rattling gasps.

The first of them reached her bony hand out and stroked Castiel’s cheek. “We have…waited…for this one,” she whispered adoringly.

“We have…never…given up…hope…that this one would…make his way to us,” cooed the second of them, her mouth stretched wide in a grin that showed her blackened teeth.

Castiel stood firm, despite his nerves telling him to bolt. His outstretched hand contained the orb that continued to glow a bright blue. The third one of the Ladies took interest in the orb. She touched it gingerly with one stiff finger. It glowed a little more brightly at her touch; she cackled.

“This one’s energy is…excessive…something profound bonds him to this life,” she observed.

The first became intrigued. She stopped caressing his cheek and turned her grey eyes to rest upon her sister.

“We want the…profound bond…in our control. What is it…that you…seek from us?”

“We must…hear you state it…” chimed in the second sister.

Closing his hand tightly and pulling back a bit, Castiel explained, “I offer my immortality in exchange for you taking away Iblis’s immortality. I offer you the full control of a Royal’s destiny. With my immortality in your hands, my Father cannot intervene.”

The third Lady studied him closely. “You look…frightened…” she observed, tilting her head slightly. “Do not…fear us…we will…grant your request.”

His body relaxed a bit. The first remarked snidely, “Do not…get too warm just yet…we require something in return.”

“Anything.”

“You will…have your pet…devour Iblis…and Hell will be…ours to reign over…”

The second sister placed her hand over Castiel’s and gripped it firmly. She pried his fingers apart and grasped the orb. When she clutched it between her fingers, Castiel’s body was overcome with waves of pain; the markings on his body began to burn. He fell to his knees, fighting to maintain control of his breathing.

“The process is….painful…” the second Lady remarked. “We are…sorry that we cannot…make it any easier...But this was…your choice.”

“Why do you…choose this path?” inquired the first sister, kneeling down beside him. She took his face between her hands and pulled his gaze up to her. His eyes, glazed over with pain, fought to focus on her.

“I am – I am going to finish it,” he grunted. “This time – I will not be deterred. I am going to do what is best for humanity.”

“You are…as gentle…as the moth…that flies toward the flame…” she breathed.

“What about Dean? What will become of him?”

She placed her chapped lips against his temple reassuringly before she said, “He will be…ours to keep when he…passes on this time…he will stay with us.”

The second of the Ladies let out a shriek from behind them. She began to convulse as the orb reached its bright peak. The third watched on, her face darkened by an ugly smile. The first passed one hand over Castiel’s eyes and whispered, “You must…go back…and ensure that…your pet has…fulfilled your end…of the deal…”

 

\---

 

Castiel was suddenly thrown into darkness. He had the distinct feeling that he was being pulled backward by his neck. He felt himself crash against the hard grass of his court yard.

“Cas!” cried a deep voice distantly. He felt rough hands grabbing him by the arms, guiding him into an upright position. “Hey! Dammit, Cas, can you hear me?!”

Castiel opened his eyes groggily. He felt a rush of relief when he was able to focus his eyes on Dean’s worried face. He cupped his lover’s cheek gently.

“I was able to come b-back,” he said, voice breaking with emotion. “I d-did it.”

“You did what?” Dean asked.

“I fixed it. I have – I finally – I have finally made up for the mistake I made.”

Dean continued to stare at him with uneasiness. “What did you do?”

“I freed you from the cycle, Dean.” Castiel smiled at him happily. “You are free. Iblis will no longer rule the Hellfire. You can finally rest.”

As Castiel placed his other hand at the base of Dean’s throat, he noticed the color of his skin was drastically different. His skin was…tan. The same as Dean’s.

“My skin…” he commented.

“Yeah, it’s changed,” Dean observed. “And your…your shoulders, Cas. Your tattoos are gone. It looks like they were burned off. I don’t understand! What happened? You disappeared, Bahamut has been fighting some giant gargoyle looking thing – it looks like a warped version of Iblis.”

Before Castiel could respond, there was a quake in the Earth. They jumped up and sprinted to see what was going on.

Beyond them, Bahamut had rammed Iblis into the hard cliff. Iblis was attempting to fight back, but he seemed to be too injured to do much. As he raised his right set of claws, Bahamut bit down on his shoulder and tore apart his upper body.

As the former Ruler of Hell was defeated, Castiel felt a humming in his veins. He did not feel one with the waters anymore but – for a moment – he could feel the ocean as it sang in triumph. He felt the planet beneath him rejoice.

Dean threw his hands up, confused and frustrated. “Fucking Bahamut just ate gargoyle Iblis! What the hell, Cas?”

Castiel took Dean’s hand into his, locked their fingers together, stood close to him. “Your language is so colorful now.”

“Yeah, well, apparently shit happened in this life cycle. I got a new vocabulary, I guess.” Dean chuckled softly. “Don’t try to change the subject. You need to fill me in.”

Castiel observed him with loving eyes. “Let’s go inside,” he suggested. “I’ll explain everything. And we…we will begin anew.”


End file.
